


Siren

by Brawness



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Boss/Employee Relationship, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Help, Hoony is dense af, How Do I Tag, I don't know what I'm doing, M/M, Musician Seungyoon, Pining, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-23 03:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13181214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brawness/pseuds/Brawness
Summary: If there was anything Seunghoon hated, it was half-assing anything. Either go all out or don’t do it at all. Seungyoon just started sharing this opinion.OrSeunghoon is a bar owner and Seungyoon has a crush.





	1. Instinctively

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is a work of fiction based on real people. It was written for the sole purpose of entertainment and does not in any way reflect on the lives, opinions and personalities of the real individuals.
> 
> I request for the privacy of the individuals whom this story was based on. Please DO NOT send it to them or find ways for them to see it. This is all for fun and I do not wish for them to be burdened by something that I wrote.
> 
> You can find me [HERE](https://twitter.com/usmarchioness?s=09)

_“You are a mystery to me, yet so familiar. Like a song I’ve never heard before, and a tune I’ve known all my life.” - Pavana_

 

Bells chimed gently signaling entrance. The sound of pouring rain and ebbed upon the door closing. He should have remembered to lock the door.

 

“We open at five.”

 

Concentrating on his task of polishing a Reidel glass holding it up to the light for any specks, he did not realize the intruder did not leave, until a bar stool scraped softly on the floor.

 

He really should have remembered to lock the door. Turning around, a mop of wet, jet black hair and shivering shoulders greeted him. With no clear view of the stranger’s face, he saw a guitar case leaning on the counter also wet.

 

Without a word, he turned back to the sink and ran the glass under hot water for a few seconds. He took out his special bottle of Tesseron and poured it neat. With a gentle swill to bring up the temperature to that of the body, he placed the glass in front of the stranger.

 

“On the house.” He murmured, as he pulled his apron that was on the counter and tied it around his waist.

 

He continued polishing the other glasses as he covertly watched a pale hand come up to the glass and wrap reddened fingers around the bell shaped vessel. A discreet inhalation moved his shoulders as the warm notes of the spirit wafted from the light amber liquid.

 

“25 years old, Legende by Tesseron. The taste is warm but light. Like nectar on the tongue and a caramel on the breath.”

 

The stranger brought the glass closer to his lips, pausing for a moment and tipped the contents, taking a small sip.

 

He let the stranger savor the aroma of the aged liquor, seeing his mouth tip up, color climbing back on to his rain wet cheeks. A sweep of black lashes hovered under his unruly bangs, blinking at the gentle potency of the spirit he imbibed.

 

“Nectar on the tongue… caramel on the breath.” The stranger spoke for the first time. His voice characterizing the words he just uttered. Then he smiled, finally looking up.

 

“You made brandy sound like a song.” Locks of glossy black hair revealed eyes that tilted into crescents akin to a fox like expression.

 

“Well, the bar IS called ‘Siren’.” He returned the grin self deprecatingly. “Drunkenness generally calls to people.”

 

The stranger seemed young. Maybe two or three years younger than him. He took another sip and hummed.

 

“I see a guitar, do you play or did you just hijack it somewhere?” He asked lightly.

 

“Yes to the first and maybe to the second.” Deep brown fox eyes twinkled. “Are you calling the cops?”

 

“You appreciated my liquor properly, so I will turn a blind eye this time.” He folded a burgundy napkin and proceeded to wipe down the counter.

 

“You’re not asking me to leave.”

 

“You did not ask to enter.” He replied simply.

 

The boy inclined his head to the side, and a brief sparkle of silver winked at him. One, two, three… Four earrings on one ear which tip was slightly red from the cold. At least he wasn’t shivering anymore. “You don’t have live music.” A statement.

 

“Have you been here before?” If he did, he would have remembered.

 

“In passing.”

 

“If you’ve seen my patrons, or lack thereof, you will know why I don’t have live music.” The bar, while he managed to keep it above the water, was not exactly a thriving business. It was stable, and that was enough for him. He wanted to keep the calm ambience, attracting patrons who only look for a place for quiet, intimate conversation or retreat and of course, the best liquor.

 

The small two storey building was tucked behind two other establishments, a bakery and a florist. Not the optimum place to lure clientele.

 

“Care to give me a try?” Words purred coyly, a hint of mischief glinting in his grin.

 

“I am but a poor man. I cannot afford you.” He responded to the banter, his humor piqued.

 

“You only have to feed me.” A dimple appeared on his chin when he smiled.

 

He studied the boy for a long moment, watching the smile fade slowly from his his face, and sober eyes regarded him back gravely. He could see the calluses on the slender left hand perched on the table. A hint of roughness on what would have been almost feminine fingers.

 

“If you’re okay with takeout and cakes, then we can work something out.” He turned to his liquor cabinet, taking stock of what might need to be replenished from his cellar. Without looking back, “Patrons usually start coming in at seven. I close at eleven. I have some equipment in the back room that you can use, but if you’d prefer to use yours, that’s fine as well.”

 

“So does this mean you’re my boss now?” The boy asked.

 

He turned to him once more, raising his brow. “I don’t even know your name.”

 

It was like watching the break of day. The boy’s face expression softened with what could only be described as delight, his eyes becoming slits and his mouth stretching into a blindingly toothy smile. Color painted his cheeks almost matching his lips as he tilted his head back slightly.

 

“My name is Seungyoon. Kang Seungyoon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is up. Finally. I am so nervous about this fanfic, I am not really sure if I could pull it off. Please be patient with me, I will upload the next chapter soon, but I do need input from you. To hyung or not to hyung? What are your opinions in using age honorifics in an English fanfic? 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Rain into a paper cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He started playing his guitar. Tenderly. Praying that the heart in his voice reached the recipient it desired.

_“I look at you and a sense of wonder takes me.” - Homer_

 

Heart pounding, excited shivers wracked his frame as he quickly packed up his equipment for the night’s performance. His fingers could barely contain the shaking, he finally had the guts to do it. Finally. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, coughing a little from the itch in his throat. He hoped that the rain didn’t do a number on him. It did not exactly help his situation.

 

He was even more striking up close than he was from afar. Seungyoon almost turned around and called it quits when he saw the figure standing behind the bar, cradling a brandy glass between strong, elegant fingers. He was too elegant. Too serene. Too intimidating.

 

Up to this day, he did not know how he was not labeled a creepy stalker for how much he made excuses just to pass by the bar. He was still a coward, nonetheless. All those years, seeing, watching, appreciating. Pathetically pining. All from far away. He had not even once step foot inside Siren, content to be a spectator. Until two months ago.

 

Tensing his shoulders then relaxing, he sighed. “Get yourself together, Kang Seungyoon. Don’t fuck this up.”

 

He donned the raincoat lent to him by his new boss and grabbed his equipment.

 

His studio was five blocks away from Siren. Though the walk was not too far, he was winded by the time he made his way into the back door where he was shown out half an hour ago. Hanging the raincoat on the rack, he stood still to catch his breath.

 

“You’re too early. It is only six, there are no patrons yet.” A modulated voice came behind him. His heart jolted with nerves. _Calm down._

 

Seungyoon braced himself, turning to face his boss. Sharp eyes were studying him, face impassive. He felt heat crowd on his cheeks and the the tips of his ears. Forcing himself to relax, he beamed at him. “There’s you.”

 

_Only you._

 

“Since you will be feeding me takeout and cakes, you deserve to know what you’re getting.” He really wasn’t expecting that offer at all. He went into the bar ready for a total rejection. He never in a million years would have thought to be offered brandy in an expensive glass along with the chance to be close to this person who, only two months ago he would have been too cowardly to even approach.

 

“Fair enough. Show me what you got, kid.”

 

Did he just imagine the tiniest smile flicker up on that well shaped mouth for the briefest second?

 

Seungyoon nodded and started assembling his portable amplifier, just a small one, since the venue did not need loud instrumentals. Strumming a few experimental chords, testing the acoustics of the bar, the wood and leather furniture as well as some tastefully placed modern draperies absorbing the sound without any harsh echoes. The effect was a gentle, non obtrusive flow of music.

 

He started stretching his fingers, doing small exercises to warm up his hands. The cold weather made his fingers stiff, especially with all the walking in the rain that he had done previously.

 

“Kang Seungyoon.”

 

Seungyoon gripped the neck of his guitar hard to control his suddenly rebellious heart that felt the need to bounce around his chest each time his name was called by him.

 

“Yes, boss?” His traitorous lips pulled up involuntarily, his feet taking him to where they wanted to be.

 

Neat, well kept hands placed a steaming mug garnished with a cinnamon stick in front of him. Seungyoon blinked.

 

“Try it.”

 

Wrapping his own hands around the graceful ceramic mug, he sighed as the warmth immediately eased his cold digits.

 

With a cautious sniff, “Brandy?”

 

“Mhmm. Just a quarter of a shot. Honey and cinnamon…”

 

Eyeing the angular shoulders clad in a black, button down shirt, with its long sleeves rolled up the elbows, he took a healthy mouthful, trusting the bar owner.

 

It was like swallowing a ray of sunshine. It was hot, but not scalding. Sweet but not cloying. It chased away the remaining chill that was lingering in his body.

 

He did not realize he closed his eyes and was humming in deep appreciation until he heard a faint chuckle. Too pleased to be embarrassed by his reaction, he looked at his boss, unspeakably delighted to see an actual smile on his elegant face.

 

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” He lilted.

 

Another chuckle. Another heart flutter. “Unless you are the lightest weight I know, the alcohol should be negligible enough.” He continued what he was doing, which was slicing lemons, while Seungyoon took another deep draft of the hot drink. Another hum.

 

“It looks like it really isn’t that difficult to feed you.”

 

It was true. Seungyoon wasn’t a picky eater. He ate anything and everything, if he remembered to eat at all. He just nodded. When he was done with the drink, he thanked him and went around the counter to wash his mug.

 

At the corner of his eye, he watched the bar owner walk routinely behind the counter, every motion was an economy of movement. Graceful. Lithe. No wasted energy, as if every muscle tension and release had a purpose. He could have watched him all day.

 

The severity of his black clothing really suited his frame, the matte silk lovingly clung to his statuesque form while the black apron wrapped around his hips emphasized the trimness of his waist.

 

Seungyoon had to shake himself, realizing he spaced out staring at the object of his admiration like a creepy stalker. He scratched his head and headed back to his set up.

 

The enormity of his feelings, of how much just being in the same room meant to him, he felt them bubbling inside of him, like a geyser preparing to erupt. How he could contain these feelings, harness them somehow, was such a thing possible?

 

But he tried. He did it the only way he knew how.

 

He started playing his guitar. Tenderly. Praying that the heart in his voice reached the recipient it desired.   

 

 _“Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup_ _…”_

 

Wistful notes drifted through the quiet bar as the sudden cessation of activity was heard in its silence.

 

 _“_ _Pools of sorrow waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind_

 

_Possessing and caressing me”_

 

He closed his eyes, afraid to see rejection of any shape or form.

 

_“Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns_

 

_And calls me on and on across the universe…”_

 

The last of the notes dwindled to nothing, like a wistful prayer, he finally had the courage to open his eyes.

 

Piercing obsidian ones stared back at him with an intensity that made his stomach clench with an almost visceral fear. And then the vivid gaze softened, melting Seungyoon’s tension along with it.

 

With the poised flick of two fingers, he motioned Seungyoon to come closer.

 

“So what do you want for takeout later?”

 

And just like that, hope blossomed uncontrollably inside of him. Blinking rapidly to dry the hint of suspicious moisture behind his eyelids.

 

“Boss…”

 

“Call me ‘hyung’.” He said in an offhand manner as if he didn’t just offer Seungyoon a piece of closeness he never realized he needed.

 

For the first time, he had the right to mention the name that had been emblazoned in his soul.

 

“Seunghoon hyung.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I know nothing about sound properties, and room acoustics. All I know is what I researched. If I wrote something wrong about the subject, please feel free to correct me.  
> The song I used is called “Across the Universe” by the Beatles. I feel like the Fiona Apple version is more applicable to the setting than the original. If it is your first time listening, I hope you like it. :D  
> I left so many clues as who the bar owner could be, I am so glad I was able to introduce him finally, it was very challenging to keep him a secret. Some of you may be disappointed it wasn’t Jinwoo, but Seunghoon had such a strong presence in the writing of this fanfic that I couldn’t think of any character other than him. It just HAD to be him. But fear not, I have other plans for Jinwoo.  
> I will be adding tags and pairings as they are revealed per chapter. Now that I am done with the character introduction, I will be uploading more substantial chapters next.


	3. Just Another Boy

_ “Everything was terrifyingly complex; everything was terrifyingly simple.” -Scott Spencer _

 

The offensive noise blared inside the cramped studio exacerbating the slight headache he was nursing from the night before. With a pathetic whine, his hand fished around his desk until it found his mobile phone and snoozed the alarm. 

 

His neck and shoulders were cursing him adamantly as he tried to stretch away the kinks he inflicted on himself when he fell asleep on his work station again. He barely made his contract deadline, but at least he was able to submit his work with two minutes to spare. Quite an accomplishment considering the project was given to him three months ago. 

 

Unbidden but welcomed thoughts came to his mind as he remembered the momentous (for him) events of the previous night. His arms seized around the baby chick plush toy he used as a pillow and buried his face into the soft yellow felt. It was a toy he received as a joke when he bleached his hair blonde, his friend saying Seungyoon reminded him of a baby chick. 

 

Barely containing the high pitched sounds of giddy laughter as he recalled how perfectly everything went. 

 

Dinner came in the form of two bowls of Jajangmyeon that arrived at exactly eleven, when the last patron left. It wasn’t a busy night, the customers usually came in singles or pairs, mostly serious looking young businessmen or the occasional lone businesswoman in a power suit. 

 

Despite the slow trickle of patrons, he noticed the quality of the drinks they ordered were probably worth more than a reasonable dinner per glass. Hushed conversation permeated the space and he matched his music to the atmosphere. Slow mellow songs. Love songs. 

 

“It’s been a while since we had live music here.” An older gentleman remarked when Seungyoon took a short break. “Back when Seunghoon’s father ran the place, he used to have musicians come in from time to time. It is nice that he is continuing this tradition with you.” 

 

Seungyoon ducked his head, feeling awkward, since he was technically still “auditioning” for the position. He thanked the patron shyly and went behind the counter to help Seunghoon dry some glasses. 

 

“You don’t have to help me, you know.” The bar owner said. 

 

He knew that, but he was not yet comfortable enough in his surroundings to randomly chat with the bar patrons. He was confident enough when he was performing, but that was a time when it was only him and his music that he can safely ignore everyone else. 

 

Seungyoon nodded and smiled, not wanting him to notice that he was hiding behind the counter to avoid speaking with the customers. He went back to his guitar five minutes later and started playing an acoustic rendition of ‘Stairway to heaven’. A classic. 

 

When the last patron left, bidding Seunghoon goodbye, the delivery guy arrived with their order. Seungyoon helped set up the meal on the counter while the tall bar owner locked up his establishment. 

 

“Hyung, do you want me to brew some tea?” He asked. 

 

“Yes please. I have tea leaves in the second drawer, along with the tea service.” 

 

Seungyoon smiled a little. Of course he would own a tea service. Everything about him screamed understated elegance. Everything in the bar, from the chairs to the glasses had some obvious expense to it, but it was done in a way that was not pretentious or intimidating. 

 

While he was focused on his task, he did not realize that Seunghoon was already sitting on a stool directly across from him  on the other side of the counter and he was regarding him with a sphinx like curiosity. Seungyoon’s heart skittered nervously being examined closely like that. 

 

“So tell me, Kang Seungyoon. Why this bar?” 

 

His mind went blank. He did not really think beyond finagling his way to be close to Seunghoon. How does he tell him without sounding like a lunatic stalker? He couldn’t lie either. So he opted for a part of the truth. 

 

“I can’t sing for large audiences.” 

 

It was true. He could not really deal with a big crowd focused on him. He worked better behind the scenes, composing and recording, locked up in his studio. But that was the very least of the reasons as to why he wanted to be at Siren on a day to day basis. The more compelling reason? How does Seungyoon tell him, “Hey, I’ve loved you for the longest time even if you don’t know me from Adam, I swear I am not a crazy stalker, I totally would have been content to watch you from afar had it not been for what happened two months ago, so now I changed my mind and decided to be closer to you.” Yeah. He definitely was not revealing any of that any time soon. 

 

What he did not expect was the easy acceptance from the bar owner, just nodding and digging in to the black noodles with gusto. 

 

They ate in companionable silence, until Seunghoon felt compelled to ask, “Is there a schedule you’d like me to keep? Also, what songs do you prefer?” 

 

“For schedule, I am not really strict, as long as you don’t leave abruptly. You can come and go as you please. As for music… so far I liked every song that you played today.” 

 

_ They were all for you,  _ his heart said. 

 

“Sometimes I close the bar to tend to my other affairs, I would need your number so I can let you know in advance.” 

 

How did Seungyoon get so lucky? He beamed as he nodded and proceeded to eat his black noodles with more gusto than he usually ate.

 

The rest of the evening went smoothly, they had small talk and he savored every small detail that he could. 

 

Seunghoon studied abroad for two years after he completed his military duty. He took over the bar for his father. He did not like too much onion in his jajangmyeon. His sense of humor was dry but he also laughed at Seungyoon’s childish jokes. 

 

He clutched the stuffed toy to his chest, feeling as if he took his first clean breath of air after years of barely living. He was going to see him again this night. A few more hours. 

 

“Chill, Kang Seungyoon. Don’t be such a school girl with a crush, it’s fucking embarrassing.” But he chortled anyway. 

 

*

 

The cold grey skies looked particularly unwelcoming as he put his pen down, sighing in frustration. 

 

Nothing was coming to him. As much as he tried to put his thoughts and feelings into writing everything fell limp from his pen to the paper. A pervading sense of apathy had been plaguing him for the past couple of months that no amount of traveling managed to chase away. Years of hedonistic living only proved that it did not matter if you tried to please all of your senses when your heart is not engaged. Moments of pleasure were fleeting, elusive and then you will be left with the bitter aftertaste of just existing. Like the unpleasant morning after of cheap whisky. 

 

A deep sigh left him once more. 

 

Pretty words were easy to string together and then pass it off as a verse. But without meaning, the words would fall flat and shallow, as useless as the paper they were written on, and if there was anything Seunghoon hated, it was half-assing anything. Either go all out or don’t do it at all. 

 

And so he closed his manuscript and started the water to steep his tea in. 

 

The familiar routine of the morning soothed his restlessness temporarily. The mindless yet deliberate activity allowed his mind to wander to benign thoughts.

 

The only new thing that has affected his daily life and has actually given him food for thought was his new songbird, Seungyoon. The break in his monotony. 

 

He has been coming in regularly for the past week, popping in an hour early, asking him about song choices, his preferences, all the while storming his way behind the counter and helping Seunghoon polish glasses and silverware even after he told him it was not necessary.

 

Seunghoon has learned to keep some snacks at the bar because the younger man usually came in as if he had not eaten since the day before. He was not picky with food at all, most of the time content to let Seunghoon choose what they had to eat, always happy to munch on the snacks during his breaks. 

 

He noticed the guitarist rubbing his stomach, looking lost one time, as if he recalled not consuming any sustenance during the day that prompted Seunghoon to make him a mug of hot chocolate loaded with marshmallows. The white fluffy confections were not something he had on hand on the regular, they were just special samples from the baker next door, but Seungyoon’s reaction made him want to keep them in standing order. How can someone be so damn happy with just a mug of sugary concoction? The kid was like a puppy given a treat that Seunghoon almost patted him on the head out of compulsion. 

 

He was brought back to present when he heard his phone vibrate on the table. At the sight of the familiar number, he answered the call. 

 

“Seunghoon, I would need a table today, please. The usual.”

 

The voice of a long standing patron and family friend sifted through the phone speaker. She had been a regular since his father ran the business, and she always very particular about the things she wanted. 

 

A table for two by the front window, a decanter of his cellar’s finest port wine, and two pink camellias. 

 

“Eight o’clock?” He asked, knowing the answer. 

 

“Please. Also, I heard you have a young man providing live music?” 

 

“Yes. Would you like me to not have him come in today?” Which would be a shame since the bakery next door gave him some tiramisu and he was saving one for Seungyoon. But since he had to close the bar to accommodate Camila’s needs, Seungyoon would just have to deal with second day tiramisu. 

 

“Heavens, no. I would actually like to meet him. Henry mentioned that he is quite good.” Genteel tones wafted through the speaker. Camila was always pleasant to listen to. Seunghoon didn’t think he ever heard her raise her voice in all the time he knew her, and he knew her since he was a boy. 

 

“As you wish.” He replied. 

 

Once the call was over, he went about his day, doing chores and preparing the things that Camila required, which was how Seungyoon found him a few hours later. 

 

***

 

Weaving swiftly in between the rush hour foot traffic as people trickled into the streets after their day jobs, Seungyoon squared his shoulders as the November wind saw fit to punish the humanity of Korea. 

 

He knew he was coming in more than an hourly for his shift at the bar, but Seunghoon did not seem to mind that he was there. He made sure to make himself useful and helped out with whatever needed to be done. At first the bar owner was hesitant to give him stuff to do, but in the end just gave in since Seungyoon took it to himself to do other chores. Most of the stuff that needed to be done were not hard, just time consuming, like polishing glasses, slicing lemons and filling snack trays. He liked doing them because it gave him more time to chat with Seunghoon when he usually didn’t have the chance when he was singing unless he was on break. 

 

Seungyoon had to stop and catch his breath for a bit, his lungs were not at their one hundred percent yet and in doing that, he noticed that the flower shop next door to the bar was open. It was strange because it was usually closed around this time.

 

He peeked through the glass panel of the door and saw a figure with a green apron and a shock of cotton candy pink hair standing with his back to the entrance. 

 

Curious, Seungyoon entered the establishment, just in time to see the most beautiful face he had ever seen on a man look back at him wide eyed. The aesthetic appeal of this human being transcended the normal that it took Seungyoon a few seconds to realize that the man put a pink flower petal in his mouth and ate it. 

 

What. 

 

It was the man who broke the silence, his doe eyes sparkling as if he did not just consume flora and smiled at him. 

 

“Seungyoon?” Even his voice sounded like a wisp of air, Seungyoon was expecting to see fairy dust to sprinkle above him.  

 

How did this creature know his name? 

 

Recovering from his temporary sensory overload, he tried to focus on the person’s face (not helping). “I’m sorry, but do I know you?” He blinked several times. This person seemed to fit very well surrounded by flowers and greenery. A real life fairy prince. 

 

“We haven’t been introduced, but Seunghoon told me you will be picking up the flowers today.” Still beaming, he went to the side and collected a bundle wrapped in brown paper. 

 

“I haven’t gone to Seunghoon-hyung yet.” He went further into the shop, looking around. It was such a contrast compared to the grey autumn of the city. There were blooming flowers in metal vases and in the fridges, also hanging ones from the pots strung up on to beams running along  the glass ceiling that allowed natural light to get into the room. 

 

“But you are Seungyoon right?” The man cocked his head to the side. 

 

He nodded. 

 

“Sorry, that was rude of me. Seunghoon described you perfectly, you see.” He smiled apologetically, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “My name is Kim Jinwoo. You can call me hyung.” 

 

Seungyoon’s heart did a flip in his chest. As attached as he was to the tall bar owner, he could not help but react to the pure form of the florist. He was just that beautiful. But then his attention was snagged by something he said. 

 

“How did Seunghoon-hyung describe me?” 

 

Jinwoo’s perfect teeth sparkled, “Black hair, pale skin, earrings. He said you looked like a puppy. Very cute.” He said with a laugh. 

 

Cute? Seunghoon thought he was cute? Or was it only because he reminded him of a puppy? Heat gathered at his cheeks and his ears, flustered. 

 

“Super cute.” Jinwoo reiterated and handed Seungyoon the bundle he was holding along with a small vase with two pink camellias on a single stem. 

 

“Careful with the flowers, they are special orders. I need to close now, I have a pottery class in an hour, but you’re welcome to visit me during the day.” All of this information was said in an airy but inviting manner that Seungyoon did not realize he was being abruptly dismissed. 

 

Amused but interested, he decided he would definitely pay the florist a visit sometime in the future. 

 

It started raining heavily that the short walk to the bar had him drenched. Not good. Remembering Jinwoo’s reminder to handle the flowers with care, he shielded the fragile looking camellias with his coat. 

 

With some difficulty, he managed to juggle the flowers, bundle and his guitar case to the bar, where the sign was oddly flipped at ‘closed’. 

 

Shivering, he shouldered his way through the back door, calling out, “Hyuuuuung.” 

 

His reply was a discreet “Shhh”. 

 

He set down all of his burden on the side table and hung his coat. Curious, he quietly walked to the bar area just in time to see Seunghoon light up a bunsen burner and suspended what looked like metal tool above the blue flame. 

 

Without turning, Seunghoon gestured for him to sit on the other side of the bar, two seats away from the accoutrements set out. 

 

“We have a special patron tonight. I am decanting port wine for her.” The bar owner explained. 

 

The last part of the sentence barely made sense to Seungyoon. “I’m sorry, you’re whatting what wine now?” He blurted out.

 

“Decanting. Meaning I am transferring vintage port wine into another container.” 

 

Seunghoon put three more items on the table. A glass of ice water, a feather and red wax. It was like watching a magic show. It was certainly nothing Seungyoon had ever seen before. 

 

“But why?” 

 

With deliberate movements, Seunghoon started peeling the foil seal off the neck of the bottle, long, slender fingers deftly discarding bits and pieces to the side. In the same subdued tone, as if observing reverence in the process of ‘Decanting’, he replied, “Vintage wines, in this case a twenty five year old wine, has formed some sediments over the years. We don’t want that in wine, so we transfer it from the original bottle to a decanter, and strain it.” 

 

Attention rapt, Seungyoon rested his chin on his hands and watched the graceful movements as the bar owner took the now red hot, what appeared to be tongs, opened them and clasped them around the neck of the wine bottle. Seungyoon froze, arrested at the sight of the tall man, one hand clenched on the heavy, metal implement, the veins of his arm standing out in stark relief up to where his sleeve was rolled. The look of intense concentration on his face as he rotated the tongs slightly and deliberately. 

 

After what felt like the longest thirty seconds of Seungyoon’s life, the bar owner released the tongs and safely put them away at the sink were the heat was extinguished in the water with a muted hiss. Returning to the bottle, he picked up the white feather and dipped it into the glass of ice water. 

 

“Heat makes the glass expand and cold makes it contract. The sudden change in temperature will…” With a delicate flick of his wrist, he swirled the wet feather around the neck of the bottle. There was an audible  _ clink _ that seemed loud in their mutual silence. “... cause the glass to crack.” 

 

Like magic, the top half of the neck, cork and all, came clean off the bottle when Seunghoon removed it, and proceeded to pour the rich red liquid into the decanter that had some sort of straining funnel on top. 

 

Seunghoon sealed the top of the empty bottle with wax and set it with a flourish on the counter. Seungyoon burst into applause. “So cool, hyung!” 

 

The tall bar owner smiled wryly as he put away all the implements he used. “It is the most unnecessarily dramatic way to open a bottle of wine, but yeah.” 

 

*

 

Satisfied that everything will be ready for Camilla, Seunghoon took a good look at the guitarist for the first time since he came in. His chin was propped on his hands and had the most adorable wide eyed expression that reinforced the puppy image Seunghoon had of him. Unable to resist, he reached out to ruffle his hair. 

 

“You’re soaking wet!” He exclaimed. Droplets of water clung to the tips of Seungyoon’s jet black hair. His navy coat had darker patches where the rain soaked it through. 

 

Careless kid, he thought. He would get sick for how often he got caught in the rain. “Come with me.” It was still an hour before Camilla arrived, they had enough time.

 

He walked towards the stairs by the back area that led to his apartment on the second floor. Unlocking his door, he beckoned the curious looking Seungyoon to his place. 

 

Walking swiftly to his closet, he grabbed a thick grey cashmere sweater and a clean towel. 

 

“Here.” He handed the sweater to Seungyoon. “Hurry and take off your clothes.” 

 

There was a long moment of silence as Seunghoon’s synapses finally communicated. He glanced back at the younger man and saw him turn a beet red shade. 

 

“Seungyoon…” 

 

Loud hooting laughter burst from the other guy. “Hyung-,” Breathless hilarity continued. “I hope that is not how you pick up girls.” Seungyoon was hugging his middle, trying to control his giggles that he was coughing. 

 

“Idiot.” Relieved that he wasn’t offended, he helped Seungyoon out of his coat that was soaked through. “For your information, that line is quite effective.” 

 

The guitarist swiftly changed out of his wet shirt into the one Seunghoon lent him. The soft oversized sweater that hung loosely on him almost engulfed Seungyoon, the long sleeves dragged down to the very tips of his reddened fingers. 

 

“Come here.” He pulled the younger man to sit on his couch and started towel drying his hair. “You really should carry an umbrella or something.” 

 

“I have one, but I was carrying too many things.” Seungyoon replied. “I passed by the flower shop because it was open and met Jinwoo hyung. He gave me a package and also the flowers.” 

 

“Ah, sorry about that, I meant to text you first. I must have forgotten to send it.” Seunghoon lifted the towel to see if the locks were dry enough. Seunghoon made a noncommittal sound. 

 

The ends of the hair were still a little damp, he sifted his fingers through the silky strands marvelling at the softness while Seungyoon sat docile under his ministrations. 

 

“I was surprised he knew me, but apparently you described me to him. I look like a puppy?” Seungyoon lifted his head and looked up at him, his fox like eyes twinkling like crescent moons, lips tilted up teasingly. 

 

Seunghoon chuckled. “You look like a very fluffy puppy right now.” He said, and ruffled his hair, ending the touch at his ear, brushing the tip with affection. 

 

Crimson stained the ear that he just touched and Seungyoon abruptly stood up. “Ah, hyung!” In a whiny voice, rubbing his ear. “It tickles.” 

 

He did not know why it was easy for him to be fond of the young musician when he knew next to nothing about him. He did not really buy that he was only playing for practice, because he didn’t like playing in large crowds, but whatever his reason was, he let it go. He did not seem like he had any bad intentions, maybe he just needed a place to hang out. Either way, he was good company and he provided good music, so it was a win-win situation. 

 

“Are we closed today, hyung?”

 

Which reminded him. “Oh yeah, I am expecting a special patron. She has been a customer since I was a boy. Her name is Camilla.” He explained. “A few times in a year, she requests for a quiet table by the window with her favorite port wine and two camellia flowers. As a courtesy, since she’s a long standing customer, benefactor and family friend, I’ve taken to closing the bar whenever she requests a table.” 

 

Curiosity piqued, “She must be very special then.” 

 

“Quite. During the economic crisis, my dad almost lost the business. On the day he was going to close the bar permanently, a young, foreign looking lady walked in and asked for his best bottle of wine as she was celebrating.” Seunghoon absentmindedly started picking out the lint on the guitarists’ borrowed sweater. “Unfortunately, during that time, my dad only had hard liquor, so he offered the port wine he was saving up for special occasions. Since he was closing that day, might as well share the wine with someone who at least had something to celebrate about.”

 

He reached up to tame the mussed waves of Seungyoon’s hair that was almost fully dried. He didn’t realize that the boy was quite tall, standing almost eye to eye with his own substantial height, Seungyoon was probably only an inch or two shorter.

 

“The next day, a man in a business suit came to my parents’ apartment and offered a partnership, since the owner of the bar’s building did not know what to do with the bar and did not really need it, if he was interested in being the caretaker of the building, maintaining the bar and provide the liquor selection for their company parties. My dad accepted, of course. He later discovered that the building was actually sold on the day that he was closing and the new owner was Camilla.” He grinned remembering how his father kept retelling the story that saved his family. 

 

“What is she like?” As if returning the favor, Seungyoon fixed the roll of his sleeve that unravelled slightly when he was drying his hair. 

 

“Elegant. Very well bred. Kind.” With some consideration, “Sad.” 

 

*

 

The sweater smelled so much like Seunghoon that whenever he could get away with it, he took a whiff. He had a very specific woodsy smell like sandalwood or cedar, mixed with bright, mellow bergamot, Seungyoon couldn’t get enough of it. It was like being constantly wrapped in a hug. He did not know how he controlled himself from squealing like a demented fangirl. If the fingernail marks on his palms were any indication of his restraint, he had the control of the dalai lama, apparently. 

 

They were back at the bar, waiting for Camilla to arrive, Seunghoon set a dessert cup in front of him along with a glass of light honey colored wine. 

 

“I saved some tiramisu for you. It’s from the bakery.” 

 

“Whoa, thanks hyung!” He dug into the coffee liqueur based dessert and let the bite melt on his tongue. “Dhhlishus.”

 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Seunghoon leaned on his forearms against the bar counter across from him, he almost choked but smiled instead. 

 

“This is moscatel, a sweet dessert wine. It has a deep, almost caramel like profile that would go well with Tiramisu.” 

 

He tried the wine, and it complemented the dessert so well, not cloyingly sweet, but coats the mouth with a warm but refreshing feeling. “So good.” He scrunched his face in appreciation. 

 

Seunghoon laughed at his antics and tousled his hair. When will his heart stop jumping during these little gestures? 

 

The bell chimed signaling entry. Seungyoon turned to the door and saw a tall, svelte foreign woman come in. If this was Camilla, Seunghoon described her perfectly. 

 

“Camilla, welcome. It’s been a while.” The bar owner strode towards the graceful lady. Everything about her screamed wealth, but in an understated manner. Her dove grey coat draped over her shoulders, her conservative blush colored sheath reached her ankles. Heeled boots that probably cost more than two months of Seungyoon’s studio rent peeked below her dress. 

 

“Seunghoon, handsome as always.” The bar owner took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to it, to which she laughed melodiously, “And charming.” She patted the bar owner’s cheek with something akin to maternal fondness. 

 

Seungyoon did not realize that he automatically stood when she came in, something about her demeanor demanded that deference. When she directed her attention to him, he straightened. 

 

“This must be Seungyoon.” She smiled kindly, the silver streak on her left temple cut a dashing swath across her tastefully coiffed hair. She offered her hand and he took it in his, squeezing gently.

 

He relaxed enough to grin back. “Apparently, Seunghoon hyung keeps telling everyone that I look like a puppy that they recognize me without having met before.” 

 

A charmed peal of laughter rang from the patron and she squeezed his hand back. “It was actually my driver, Mr. Choi that told me about you. Although I cannot confirm or deny whether there was a comparison with the canine species.” 

 

He led her to the designated table and pulled the chair for her. The bar owner followed behind them. “Do stop hovering, Hoony and do what you have to do. I just want to chat with this young man.” 

 

“Of course.” Seunghoon said wryly. “Seungyoon, pour Camilla’s wine, will you? It seems I am being dismissed.” 

 

Ignoring the bar owner altogether, “I heard great things about you. It seems you are a very good musician.” She clasped her hands together and watched Seungyoon pour the wine.

 

“Not at all.” He said modestly. 

 

Knowing eyes held his gaze and he felt sudden apprehension. “There seems to be quite a lot of songs composed by ‘Yoon’ that were received quite well.” 

 

Seungyoon tensed and looked back to see if Seunghoon was around. Camilla regarded him with a calm but acute scrutiny that made him fidget on his chair. Realizing that the woman probably knew everything about him, he decided to come clean.

 

“Three months ago, I had severe pneumonia and my left lung collapsed. My friend found me just in time, but the doctors told me that I almost died on the way to the emergency room.” 

 

A faint gasp came from the older woman, her face creasing in concern and reached for his hand on the table that has become cold and clammy. It was not a fun story to tell. He tried not to think of the circumstances that led to his near death experience and focused on getting well during that time, but he found himself often rousing from his sleep, disturbed. 

 

He gave her hand a small squeeze. “I was and probably still am a workaholic. It is all that I have going for me.” He gave a self deprecating chuckle. “But the thought that I could have died that day and I wasn’t able to do the one thing that has kept me going throughout my life made me realize that I have been wasting my time keeping my distance. I should not have been content just watching from afar.” He averted his face to the window, not wanting to see Camilla’s reaction.

 

The small hand still holding his grasped his hand in a surprisingly strong grip that he turned to see her eyes filled with compassion. “How long have you loved Seunghoon?” 

 

He brushed her warm palm with his thumb. 

 

“Since I was thirteen years old.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -In case you guys are curious, Hoon’s look is from the fool era. Yoon’s look is fool era too, but with black hair. 
> 
> -This is the acoustic version of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ that Yoonie plays: https://youtu.be/_2lI3vMxU84
> 
> -Recently, Seungyoon released a cover of “Golden Slumbers” for Prison Playbook, I find it amazingly coincidental that Yoon chose to sing a Beatles song. I personally think Yoon’s style and voice suits a lot of Beatles songs. I chose Fiona Apple’s version of Across the Universe for the very first chapter, all of a sudden Tablo posts on IG using that song?! (I sincerely fcking hope none of them are reading my sht, but that thought did occur to me.) Forgive me, I am a delusional YG stan. I spend an unhealthy amount of time stalking YG artists on IG.
> 
> \- Thank you so much for patiently waiting for this chapter. I hope you liked it. I put a lot of effort in this particular chapter, since this is the first time in seven years that I wrote something longer than two thousand words. Please feel free to leave me comments. They really inspire me.


	4. Love Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Port wine, a warm bed and a warm... body?

 

_ “The first stab of love is like a sunset, a blaze of color.” - Anna Godbersen _

 

The obnoxious racket that was his phone alarm assaulted his ears. Was it louder than usual? The tinny, irritating sound bounced around his skull. Headache. Was he sick? No fever. 

 

Hangover? 

 

Bits and pieces of the night before came back to him. Classy lady with a charming laugh. Camilla. 

 

Potent port wine.

 

He whimpered, burrowing his head under his pillow, cocooning within the comforter, closer to the solid mass emanating so much warmth. 

 

But the noise. He really did not want to get up. 

 

He whimpered again. 

 

Miraculously the alarm ceased. With a sigh of contentment, he snuggled, ignoring the pounding in his head, opting for more sleep. He can deal with his work later.

 

“This kid.” A familiar amused voice said.

 

His sleep logged brain refused to process anything, instead hugged his pillow tighter. So, so warm. 

 

Fingers were running through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.The gentle motions lulling him back to drowsiness. 

 

“Yoon.” 

 

He nodded, snuffling. 

 

“Yoonie.” Tapping motions on his back. 

 

“Nooooo. I am not here.” He mumbled. 

 

His pillow started shaking. How inconsiderate. He grabbed at the pillow to stop it from moving. 

“Seungyoon, you need to wake up or we won’t have a spot at this restaurant that serves hangover soup.”

 

Why did his pillow smell woodsy? He rubbed his nose into it and inhaled. His cologne did not smell like that. 

 

Slowly, the unfamiliarity of his surroundings roused him to dim lucidity. He didn't remember his sheets being this soft, or his comforter this luxurious. He had cotton sheets and a fuzzy blanket that he had since high school. 

 

With another whine and a final squeeze of his pillow that was squeezing him back, he sat up gingerly and pried his eyes open a crack. 

 

Green sheets? Since when did he have deep teal sheets? He poked at the material, rubbing it between his fingers, squinting. Is it silk? 

 

It was too early for him to make sense of what he was seeing, so he did a nosedive back into his pillow. 

 

He heard a breathless  _ “oof"  _ along with a whoosh of air. 

 

Strong hands suddenly grabbed his upper arms and forcibly lifted him from his burrow. 

 

Startled, he opened his eyes and came face to face with a very amused Seunghoon. 

 

“H-hyung.” He stammered. “Why are you here?” 

 

Why was Seunghoon in his bed? 

 

“Um… this is my bed.” He replied and nonchalantly brushed Seungyoon’s hair off his face. 

 

Seungyoon shook his head in confusion and looked around. 

 

Handsome wood furniture, white curtains. Silk sheets. 

 

Camilla.

 

Sweet port wine.

 

Memories rushed back to him and mortification spread. He groaned and rolled to the side, doing his best impersonation of a dying caterpillar, bringing his knees to his chest. His head pounded and felt all the heat of chagrin flood his face. 

 

“Dude, you’re so red.” Seungyoon felt a soft touch on the tip of his ear. He curled up even tighter. 

 

“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut. 

 

“You’re a very cuddly drunk.” 

 

“Nooooooooooooo.” He moaned, knowing what that meant. 

 

“It was cute until you started taking off your clothes.” He could hear the bar owner laughing, the bed shaking from his mirth. 

 

“Nooo. Stop talking please.” He put his hands to his ears. He didn’t have to look at himself to figure out that he was down to his boxers and the sweater Seunghoon lent him. It was a minor miracle that he even managed to keep the sweater on. 

 

“Oh, not a minor miracle. I put that sweater on you four times throughout the night.” More amusement. 

 

Great, he was thinking out loud. 

 

“You talk to yourself a lot though.” Silk rustled and the bed shifted. Seungyoon turned to look at his bed partner, mortification temporarily forgotten. 

 

Arms outstretched about his head, the taller man sinuously lengthened his spine. Wiry muscles, bones and sinew stood in stark definition, wrapped lovingly in lavish honeyed skin. 

 

Seungyoon’s breath stuck in his throat. Remnants of grace reminded him that the older man was a dancer when they were younger, as he tested the flexibility of his limbs, popping joints from the night’s repose. The threadbare grey sweatpants that have seen better days rode dangerously low on his hips, the salient angles flagrantly arrowed down to a place that made Seungyoon hear the blood rush in his head. 

 

“Yoon, are you still drunk?” 

 

Jarred out of his salacious thoughts, he focused on the bar owner’s face. He was smirking, his hair unstyled, fell around his face like bolts of black silk, the discreet piercings on his ears winking in the weak morning light. 

 

“You’re not a morning person are you?” 

 

He shook his head weakly. The dull throb of his hangover made itself known. 

 

The bar owner approached to lean forward, startlingly close to him. All of a sudden he was hauled from his recline with a tug on his wrist. 

 

“Time to get up. You have hangover soup to try.” He picked up Seungyoon’s clothes that were strewn all over his otherwise meticulous floors. 

 

Was there no end to this embarrassment? His face fired up again seeing the evidence of his sloppy shame of the night before. What did Seunghoon think of him now? Like some sort of cheap drunk that would jump in bed with just about anyone? He didn’t want the older man to have a bad impression of him. 

 

A hand patted the top of his head tousling his already messy hair. 

 

“I’ve never seen Camilla laugh like she did yesterday.” Seunghoon said. 

 

He looked up. Seunghoon’s fingers traced the shell of his ear that he flinched a little from the tickling sensation, his heart fluttering. 

 

The older man’s intense gaze burned down through him that he could do nothing but stare back. 

 

“You sure are something special, Kang Seungyoon.” 

 

*

 

They walked briskly in companionable silence to his friend’s family restaurant, Seungyoon huffing and puffing beside him, trying to keep pace with his longer strides. Taking pity on the poor hungover soul, he slowed his steps, surveying him. 

 

Seunghoon literally had to stuff him into another set of his clothes since the boy was adamantly insisting that he wear his own clothes that were not thick enough to protect him from the bracing morning chill. He looked rather like a bundled baby chick in Seunghoon’s clothes. How could someone be skinner than he was? He took perverse pleasure in wrapping a long blue cashmere scarf multiple times around his pale neck until it nearly reached his eyes. 

 

“This is overkill, hyung.” The singer muttered and Seunghoon just shrugged. 

 

The previous night was quite an enlightening experience. He had known Camilla for longer that he could remember and not once has he seen her laugh with abandon like she did with Seungyoon. He didn’t even know she loved singing until Seungyoon teased her into a lilting rendition of a Beatles song that they both belted out fueled with inebriation. 

 

One of the flowers that she usually took home with her once she was done, she slid behind Seungyoon’s ear smiling with such fondness that he could hardly believe they just met that day. 

 

By the time Camilla called it a night, Seungyoon was plastered. When Camilla’s driver came to collect her, she was still astonishingly sober. 

 

“Hoony, do make sure this boy doesn’t end up with unsavory individuals on his way home.” She patted the said “boy” on the head as he was slumped on the table grinning widely, cheeks stained a dark pink. 

 

When Camilla was gone, he went back to the intoxicated Seungyoon who was singing a slurred yet surprisingly melodic interpretation of ‘We are the champions’. 

 

“Okay, Freddie Mercury, time to get you home.” He pulled the younger to his feet and braced his hands on his arms until the dangerous wobbling subsided. 

 

“ I've had my share of sand kicked in my face.” Seungyoon hollered. “But I’ve come throughhhhhhh!” He raised his arms up. 

 

“Sing it with me, hyung, ‘WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS MY FRIEEEND…’.” Like a  slippery eel, he got out of Seunghoon’s grasp and stumbled to the door.  

 

“This kid…” Seunghoon muttered, following the soused singer who was still doing a garrulous live performance for the streets of Seoul. 

 

“And weeeeee’ll keep on f-fighting till the end…” 

 

He definitely should have kept his hold Yoon, the moment he got the the street, he crashed into a group of young men coming from the corner. Seunghoon ran to collect him. 

 

“Hey man, watch it!” One of them said, roughly shoving Seungyoon out of the way. He would have fallen to the ground had Seunghoon not caught him in time. 

 

“Oops sorry.” The younger mumbled and sagged back against Seunghoon’s chest as he wrapped his arm around his waist to steady him. 

 

“Sorry about that, but there was no need to be rough.” He said, addressing the group. 

 

One of the guys took a look at them up and down and they proceeded to leave. 

 

Sighing at the near miss, he didn’t realize Yoon turned his face to Seunghoon’s neck and did what he could only describe as a nuzzle. 

 

“Hey, Kang Seungyoon, don’t fall asleep in the middle of the street!” He scolded. “Don’t fall asleep leaning on me, for that matter.” Shaking the boy when he was getting heavier and heavier. 

 

“I’m sleepy, hyung.” He stuck his cold nose into Seunghoon’s collar and breathed. 

 

With another resigned sigh, since there was no way he would be able to get the kid home, he didn’t have the determination nor the strength to do it, he decided to take him to his own apartment instead. 

 

“Seungyoon. Yoon.” He didn’t respond to shaking, so Seunghoon pinched his cheek. 

 

“Ow, hyung.” He whined, batting at his hand, but he did straighten up on his feet. Seunghoon took that chance to manhandle the drunk singer back to the bar. 

 

Needless to say it was a struggle to get him up the stairs, with Seunghoon taking rests after a couple of steps up since he was supporting most of Yoon’s weight, meanwhile Yoon started singing another tipsy version of an English song. 

 

“Mama tells me I shouldn’t bother…” He slurred. “That I ought-- to stick to another maaaan…” 

 

In between hauling and struggling to breathe, how in the world could this kid remember english lyrics, he thought wryly. “Yoon, I wish your presence of mind is as strong… - _ huff-  _ as your - _ puff-  _ English.” 

 

“A man that suuuuuurely... deserves meeee.” With an adoring hand, Yoon brushed Seunghoon’s cheek. He stared down at the singer’s widely grinning face. “But I think you do...” Yoon sang with almost eerie clarity. Seunghoon was transfixed for a moment, then shook his head and mustered on. 

 

He got them through the door through sheer determination. He did not have any more willpower to walk further to the spare bedroom, so he let them both collapse on his bed in the master bedroom. 

 

“I need to work on my cardio…” He panted, clapping Seungyoon on the shoulder, who was becoming restless, wriggling beside him.

 

With astonishing dexterity for someone who is intoxicated beyond reasonability, Seungyoon sat up and blearily looked around. He then shrugged and started taking off his clothes. 

 

“Hey, Kang Seungyoon, what are you doing?” He asked the younger, who was still humming the same tune while unbuttoning his pants and shucking them off. If that wasn’t enough to alarm Seunghoon, the singer started peeling off his borrowed sweater. “KANG SEUNGYOON!” 

 

With astounding strength, the drunk little devil suddenly pushed Seunghoon back into the mattress, looming above him. “So…” He breathed, dark eyes narrowed in intensity, boring holes through Seunghoon’s. “I cry, I pray and I beg…” A fervent whisper softer than the fingertips that brushed his brow. 

 

Seunghoon could do nothing but stare back, his pulse beating like a trip hammer in his throat, mouth dry and utterly speechless. 

 

A pregnant pause. 

 

“Love me -- love me… saaaay that you love meeee.” Seungyoon hollered, the raucous sound more suitable for a rock performance than what he recognized as a 90’s pop song. Then, like a puppet that had its strings cut, Yoon slumped over him, his legs still straddling his hips and his face smushed into his collarbone. Seunghoon put his hand to his eyes, laughing lightly. 

 

“Hyung, I’m so tired.” He murmured, voice muffled as he tried to get as close as humanly possible to Seunghoon, his movement with a touch of desperation. “I’m tired… so tired.” 

 

The forlorn note of that statement moved Seunghoon to somehow comfort him. He wrapped his arm carefully around the younger’s narrow back and his other hand cupped the back of his head. “There, there.” 

 

Seungyoon settled bonelessly on top of him, warm and weighty and showed no intentions of ever moving. 

 

“Yoon. Seungyoon.” He called out. All he got was a soft snuffle and a brush of sweet smelling hair on his cheek. 

 

He sighed. This was going to be a long night. 

 

Seunghoon slept well, all things considered. Yoon was surprisingly a peaceful sleeper when the drunk euphoria wore off and sleep completely sucked him in. He tended to cuddle close, the several times, Seunghoon roused to find the singer pressed to him somehow. 

 

He smiled at the restaurant owner that greeted them brightly, Seungyoon bowed shyly behind him. 

 

“Seunghoonie!” She pulled him into a cooking scented hug. A smell that all mothers had. He hugged her back. 

 

“Do you have a table for us, Mrs. Kim?” He bent to kiss the cheek that she offered and patted him on the head. 

  
  


“Of course! It’s a little crowded, but that’s okay right?” She beamed. Craning her neck, she saw Seungyoon who was doing his best to melt into the background. “You brought a new friend with you!” 

 

“Wherever is fine as long as we get to eat your food.” Seunghoon pulled Seungyoon forward and introduced him. “This is my new singer, his name is Seungyoon.”

 

“Oh how nice!” Mrs. Kim extended her hand and Seungyoon took it between his red ones. “I am glad you are bringing your friends over, Hoony.” 

 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Kim.” Seungyoon mumbled and retreated behind Seunghoon again. “Thank you for having us.” 

 

“So polite.” She beamed and gestured for them to sit at a corner table at the back of the crowded restaurant. 

 

Dishes were brought to them without even ordering. Seungyoon looked a little green around the gills at all the rich food in front of him, no doubt his hungover stomach protesting to work. 

 

“Try the soup, it will make you feel better.” Seunghoon put a small serving in front of the queasy Seungyoon and dug into his own food. 

 

*

  
  


Today, 3:45 PM 

 

BOSS:  _ You don’t have to come in this week. I will be away till next Monday.  _

 

PUP:  _ Is the bar closed?  _

 

BOSS:  _ No, my friend will be opening for me.  _

 

PUP:  _ Owkie! I will still swing by though. _

 

BOSS:  _ Up to you.  _

 

PUP:  _ Safe trip! I want something yummy! <3 _

 

BOSS:  _  There’s me _

  
  


“Shit, Yoon, are you okay?” The voice of his friend he was video chatting with sounded worried. 

 

Seungyoon literally choked on his own spit. Spasming coughs continued as he tried to reread the flirty text from his boss. 

 

“Is it your lungs? Do you need me to come over?” Anxiety colored the voice.

 

After a deep breath that still had him cough a little, “No hyung. I’m fine. Choked on my own spit.” He gasped. His phone vibrated again and he scrambled to see what was sent. 

 

Today, 3:48 PM

 

BOSS:  _ Oops, dropped my phone. Meant, *There’s nothing here. Middle of nowhere. _

 

Surging disappointment and relief warred within him. Calming his overly excited heart, he replied.

 

PUP:  _ Ow, okay. Have a safe trip! <3 (~///~) _

 

BOSS:  _ Beware of the bastard manning my bar. He looks harmless and stupid, but he is not. Harmless, that is.  _

 

Seungyoon raised his brows. Hmnn. Curious. 

 

*

 

The bar looked oddly gray when Seungyoon passed by the next day. Was he already feeling the bar owner’s absence that he took the color away with him? He stalled before going into the building by visiting Jinwoo. 

 

“Seungyoonie. Glad to see you again! You haven’t visited me since that time.” Jinwoo dimpled, cutting leaves from a flower stem. “Hoony is away on a business trip huh. He told me to keep an eye on the idiot manning his bar right now.” Resignation tinged the normally soft spoken tone. 

 

Deft fingers twined and twisted flowers and twigs until they formed a crown. Seungyoon watched riveted as the florist added one flower after another, a connection of yellow flowers and white sprays. 

 

“I am making crowns for a wedding.” He explained. “This will be the bride’s crown.” Jinwoo put finishing touches and clipped some more leaves. The crown was magnificent. Elegant, fresh and tasteful. 

 

He started making another one, this time with small yellow flowers and the same white sprays. “Wanna try?” Seeing Seungyoon’s focus on what he was doing. 

 

He nodded eagerly. Seungyoon liked flowers. They were pretty and smelled nice. 

 

He followed Jinwoo’s instructions with clumsy fingers. It was definitely more difficult than it looked but after a few tries, he was able to form one. It was a little limp and sad, but it was still sort of nice. 

 

Seungyoon somehow got roped into helping Jinwoo make twenty more crowns that after the fifth one, he became somewhat of an expert at it. 

 

“Well done!” Jinwoo clapped. “Thanks for your help. Maybe I can steal you away from Seunghoonie and have you become my assistant instead.” He playfully placed a flower crown on Seungyoon’s head and touched his cheek. 

 

“Really? Right in front of my salad?” A deep voice reverberated irritably in the limited space of the flower shop. 

 

Both of them turned guiltily towards the newcomer. 

 

A tall man with unruly black hair was standing by the doorway, looking reproachfully at Jinwoo. His handsome face probably had the most spectacular bone structure Seungyoon had ever seen that he was momentarily stunned by it. 

 

“Am I not cute enough for you?” The stranger strode forward, grabbing Jinwoo’s hand and pressing it to his chest. 

 

Jinwoo rolled his eyes and pulled his hand away with a sigh. “Seungyoonie, this is Minho. He is watching over the bar while Hoony is away. Minho, this is Seungyoon.” 

 

Minho turned his handsome head towards Seungyoon. Shrewd eyes examined him that Seungyoon shifted apprehensively. As abrupt as his entry, Minho’s expression broke into a nice smile. 

 

“Hi Seungyoonie. I’m Song Minho. ” 

 

*

 

Minho was a character, Seungyoon discovered, once they made their way into the bar. He was open, curious and astute. He also had a contradictory sprinkling of stupid. 

 

Overall, he was very entertaining and Seungyoon liked him very much. 

 

“You look so familiar. I could have sworn I met you before.” Minho leaned his chin on his hand one day, as Seungyoon was setting up his equipment. 

 

“I don’t think so.” His heart pounded in his chest. If he was friends with Seunghoon it was most likely that he had seen Seungyoon before. 

 

“Yeah. I would have remembered your voice.” Minho chuckled. “Not many people who sound like you.” 

 

Seungyoon tried to calm himself at the near miss of being actually recognized. He did not think Minho and Seunghoon were friends since high school, but it didn’t hurt to ask. 

 

“Have you and Seunghoon hyung been friends for a while?” 

 

“Yeah, we met in Paris at a fashion show a few years back. Seemed like a fun guy, we partied. A lot.” Minho said with a fond smile. “And then his father turned over the bar to him and I sort of just settled in the area with him.” 

 

The nights were uneventful. They mostly chatted or Seungyoon played when there were patrons. Minho was surprisingly friendly and charming to their patrons, male or female. Whereas Seunghoon had the calm yet magnetic presence that invited patrons to just talk, Minho had a vitality that had patrons infected with his cheer. 

 

However, Seungyoon found that no matter how cheery the bar was, or how good a company Minho and Jinwoo could be, he could still feel a pang of loss. 

 

He survived the long years just standing in the background, watching. Longing. Pining. He would survive a couple more days.

 

“Yoonie, what do you want for dinner?” Minho asked, while he was washing the remaining glasses and Seungyoon was sweeping the floors. 

 

“Oh, I’m fine. I was thinking of just going home after this.” He replied absent mindedly. 

 

“Nah, you have to eat. You barely touched the snacks I brought today.”

 

He really didn’t feel like eating. He would much rather go to his studio and finish the sample he was working on. He was stuck, but he didn’t really know how to fix it. Maybe the beat was too present? What if he used a muted sort of percussion instead of actual drums? But if he did that, he would have to strip away the other instrumentations, to not overwhelm the-

 

“Dude, you just zoned out on me.” 

 

“Huh?” Seungyoon turned to Minho. “Sorry, what?” 

 

“Seunghoon hyung strictly told me that I needed to feed you.” Minho explained. “He asked about the other day you were here, and found out that you went straight home. He scolded me for not feeding you.” 

 

Seungyoon had to turn around to hide his expression. In good timing, his phone vibrated in his pocket, so he had to excuse himself to go outside.

 

It was a text.

 

Today, 11:06 PM

 

BOSS:  _ Eat. _

 

Seungyoon’s heart pounded double time. He cradled the phone between his hands against his chest. Another vibration. 

 

BOSS:  _ Minho told me you were going home. You have to eat. _

 

Biting his lip, he replied. 

 

PUP:  _ Ok. :p  _

 

He did not really know what to say. He wished it was something more than just a boss caring for his employee. He wished it was more than just the stipulation in their agreement when Seungyoon started working for him. He wished his heart did not suck up every bit of kindness as if it was something else. 

 

His phone vibrated again, startling him into almost dropping it. 

 

BOSS:  _ I’ll be home in two days.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Omgosh you guys. So sorry, I have no excuse for not updating in two months, except that I’ve been so busy. Thank you so much for putting up with me, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter even if it is not as plot driven. The next chapter will move the story along considerably so please stay tuned for that.  
> \- The song Seungyoon was drunkenly singing was “Love Fool” by The Cardigans.  
> \- Comments are appreciated! Please nag me to write more. T_T I need all the encouragement I can get.


	5. Baby I'm a fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know why bartenders are told a lot of secrets?”
> 
> “Because you ply them with alcohol?”

_ “We’re both looking at the same moon, in the same world. We’re connected to reality by the same line. All I have to do is quietly draw it towards me.” -  _ _ Haruki Murakami _

 

The business trip was a bust. He had nothing. His editor was frustrated since his deadline was a month ago and he still had nothing. Seunghoon was equally frustrated. He had an entire folder worth of poems, but none of them were good enough to be immortalized in a book. His editor actually suggested publishing those instead, but Seunghoon had to put his foot down. 

 

“We have to meet halfway here. We are allowing for you to be in charge of everything that will be in the book, but you are not giving us anything.” Exasperation colored the editor’s tone. 

 

“I know.” Seunghoon gritted out. “It’s not like I haven’t been trying.” Even to his own ears, he despised how the paltry excuse sounded.

 

His editor stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray. “Let’s just extend the release date. You have other engagements. I understand that. Just… Don’t force yourself, okay?” 

 

He rubbed his face tiredly. “I know. Sorry hyung. I’ll do my best.” 

 

The older man patted his shoulder with grave fondness. “Maybe you need to get yourself a muse.” 

 

Seunghoon actually snorted. “Such an antiquated idea.” He travelled all over the world, and his experiences were what inspired him. Was he arrogant in his thinking that he did not need a specific thing to bring out his creativity? Maybe. Did he need a muse? Not really. 

 

“You laugh now, you just haven’t found the thing that magically sets things in motion. Or maybe the person that would get your creative juices flowing.” His editor wagged his eyebrows suggestively that Seunghoon had to laugh in exasperation. 

 

“Oh, the juices are flowing just fine, hyung. Thanks for your concern.” Seunghoon relaxed into his seat. “But you are right, maybe I just need to get laid.” 

 

It has been a while. Maybe six months since the last random hookup that left a sour taste in his mouth. After that, he just wasn’t interested. Plus he had been very busy with his other ventures.

 

The thought of even going into a club and socializing in exchange for a few hours of fun just wasn’t worth it. Just thinking about it already exhausted him. How did young people do it? 

 

He just wanted to go home, sleep and tend to his bar. The week long business trip was fruitless. It only made him even more aware of how lacking he was. Frustration began to mount again as he stripped his clothes and stepped into the hotel shower. Maybe he really did need to get laid. 

 

After showering, he shaved and pulled on his clothes and a leather jacket. He had enough time to grab a quick bite and then get lost in the heat of the most popular club in the city. 

 

The same pulsing beat of a great party beckoned Seunghoon inside. Neon lights, smoke and warm bodies populated the area. The evening crowd gave him a wide berth as he strode slowly through the throng of humanity, to where he knew the owner of the establishment would be. 

 

An imposing voice cut through the din of murmurs. “Well look who decided to grace my humble kingdom.” 

 

Seunghoon’s lip quirked up as a tall man loped towards him. Resplendent in a wine colored shirt with a V-neck that dangerously showed slivers of inked skin, long legs in fitted black jeans, the owner of the club approached Seunghoon. 

 

Clasping Seunghoon’s wrist and pulling him into a hug. “Been a while, Hoony.” 

 

Seunghoon smiled, returning the gesture, noticing the avid stares of the people surrounding them. They must be a sight. 

 

“It’s great to see you, Yongguk.” 

 

He was brought up to the VIP section and drinks were doled out. Seunghoon imbibed conservatively while they chatted, relaxing in his old friend’s company. 

 

His phone vibrated and he saw a text from Mino. 

 

Today, 9:48 PM

 

NotsoHugeBoy:  _ You’re welcome. [Image attached] _

 

It was a picture of Seungyoon blowing bubbles. His cheeks were puffed out and lips were puckered. Why was he even blowing bubbles? And when was this? 

 

He didn’t realize that he was smiling until Yongguk remarked, “Happy thoughts?” 

 

“Yeah. I adopted a puppy.” He replied, showing the picture to Yongguk. 

 

Yongguk’s face lit up with interest, grinning slowly. “Very cute. Where did you find him?” 

 

“He sings at my bar.” Seunghoon put his phone back in his pocket. 

 

“Hmnn… I will probably come visit you soon then.” Yongguk raised his glass.

 

He was pleasantly buzzed when Seunghoon’s gaze sharpened on a girl on the dance floor. Raven black hair that swayed with her movement. Effortlessly graceful in her girations, Seunghoon was transfixed. 

 

Yongguk’s low voice came from behind him. “Jennie. No attachments, no complications. Wild.” 

 

Jennie must have felt his eyes on her, she tilted her head to the side and did a body roll that made his throat go dry. Their eyes met. She smirked, her lovely cat eyes glinting. 

 

Seunghoon smirked back. 

 

*

 

Seunghoon lay on his hotel bed, exhausted and sated. He looked at the dent on the other pillow, caressing the cover fondly. Whorls of smoke drifted lazily up towards the ceiling as he slowly exhaled. 

 

Jennie left a few minutes ago, with a playful kiss on his collarbone and scribbled her number on the pad by the night stand. “I rarely go for seconds.” She winked. Seunghoon pressed her hand to his lips in appreciation. 

 

It was vigorous, hot and intense. She definitely made him work for it. He smiled to himself. However, as much as his body craved the relaxed feeling of release, there was a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, making him feel more tired than he should be. 

 

He stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray and took a hot shower. 

 

*

 

_ “The number you dialed is no longer in service…”  _

 

Seungyoon ended the call with cold fingers. He was sitting on the bench by the flower shop, breathing in the frosty air. 

 

What was the saying about not having any expectations yet still ending up disappointed? There was a reason he didn't call her when he was sick. His friend was livid on his behalf. Not even a phone call or a card. In a way, he was relieved that she didn't know, at least he could delude himself into thinking that it was the reason why she didn’t reach out. She didn't know. Not because she didn't care.

 

He scrubbed his eyes with his sleeve. The familiar sting of emotion made the gray clouds film over. A hot trail quickly became cold as it coursed over the peak of his cheek. He stubbornly blinked it away and rubbed his face with his palms. 

 

“Rough night?” A warm voice said. 

 

Startled, he saw the polished tips of black boots planted in front if him. His eyes followed the direction up skin tight black jeans, a superbly cut leather jacket and finally rested on a beloved face. 

 

And just like that, the dying leaves of autumn surrounded them in vivid, lush washes of gold, Seungyoon was suspended in a moment of absolute clarity. A slow transition of feeling warmed his cheeks as his heart answered in welcome.

 

“You're back.” He breathed.

 

*

 

Seunghoon watched in amusement as Seungyoon stuffed his cheeks with the cakes he brought from Busan recommended by Yongguk, and sweets given by the club owner. 

 

Did he lose weight? Seunghoon was only gone for a week, how was that possible?

 

His fingertips ghosted over the darkened hollows of Seungyoon’s eyes, noticing the redness that framed them. 

 

“Were you crying?” He asked gently. 

 

Seungyoon blinked and looked away. “Allergies.” He mumbled. 

 

Allergies in fall? Seunghoon’s lip quirked up. Something was clearly bothering Yoon and now it was bothering him too. 

 

He nonchalantly slung his arm around the younger and pulled him close, positioning his head to the crook of his shoulder.

 

“H-hyung.” Seungyoon squeaked. 

 

“There, there.” Seunghoon carded his fingers through Yoon’s hair, in what he hoped was a soothing fashion. “You know why bartenders are told a lot of secrets?”

 

“Because you ply them with alcohol?”

 

He snorted. “You punk. Well. Yeah. That and we know how to keep out mouths shut.” He continued playing with his hair as Seungyoon was nibbling on a mini macaron. 

 

“You know you can tell me, right?” 

 

Seungyoon nodded but remained silent. He gave his shoulders a squeeze and leaned his chin on the younger’s head, a sense of well being seeped into him.

 

“How was your trip?” Seungyoon shifted slightly, sidling closer. 

 

“Uneventful. Wasted time and resources.” 

 

Seungyoon drew away with furrowed brows, asked, “Is there something I can help with?” 

 

Sweet. 

 

Seunghoon patted his head gently. “Nah, it is me that is lacking.” 

 

He noticed Seungyoon’s gaze zero in on his collar and all of a sudden blanched.

 

Seungyoon looked up at him, his eyes wide and his expression… betrayed? 

 

It happened too fast. Seungyoon drew away from him as if scalded. 

 

“Yoon? What’s wrong?” Seunghoon tried to touch his shoulder and the singer moved away jerkily. 

 

“S-sorry.” He stammered, getting to his feet that Seunghoon stood as well. “I n-need to go.” 

 

Speechless, Seunghoon watched Seungyoon  ran away from him.

 

Later that day, he received a text from the singer.

 

Today, 6:45 PM

 

PUP:  _ Hyung, I won't be able to come by for a while. Something came up. Sorry. _

 

*

 

Seungyoon rocked himself, trying to breathe evenly. His eyes were screwed shut as he listened to the torrential downpour that blasted his window with no mercy. 

 

He didn't know how long he sat there. Through the din of deluge, he could hear his phone vibrate almost nonstop as his new friends tried to contact him. Jinwoo. Minho.

 

Seunghoon.

 

His breath hitched at the memory of the floral perfume that clung to Seunghoon’s jacket. And then there was the telltale dark stain on his neck. 

 

Seungyoon knew he had no right to feel such pain. He had no right.

 

But that didn't stop the stinging burn he felt from his throat to the pit of his stomach.

 

_ I will not cry. _

 

It was a bitter reminder of what he was and all he ever will be to Seunghoon. 

 

He should not have had any expectations. He strayed from his original purpose and stupidly allowed himself to hope. 

 

All he originally wanted was the closeness in proximity. Maybe friendship. 

 

He was foolish. So very foolish.

 

*

 

Monday, 2:43 PM

 

FlowerChild:  _ Yoonie, havnt seen u in 4ever. Pls visit me. my flowers miss u. _

 

_ * _

 

Tuesday, 11:42 AM

 

NotSoHugeBoy:  _ Brkfst. Im hngry. _

 

11:45 AM

 

NotSoHugeBoy:  _ U mad bruh? _

 

11:57 AM

 

NotSoHugeBoy:  _ C’mon Yoon. Wsnt a big deal. Not evry1 is as gfted in Overwatch as I m _

 

12:02 PM 

 

NotSoHugeBoy:  _ K, I m pretty sure ur mad now.  _

 

NotSoHugeBoy:  _ Rly now, leaving me on read?  _

 

NotSoHugeBoy:  _ Wow. Im sad. Wow.  _

 

*

 

Tuesday, 1:46 PM

 

FlowerChild:  _ Yoonie, is evrythng ok? Minho kept going on n on bout overwatch.  _

 

1:52 PM

 

FlowerChild:  _ pls let me know that you’re okay. im worried.  _

 

FlowerChild:  _ Seunghoonie is worried. _

_ * _

 

Wednesday, 5:56 PM

 

23 missed calls, 34 messages

 

*

 

Today, 8:23 AM

 

BOSS:  _ Seungyoon, did something happen? Are you okay? _

 

*

 

The phone rang two times. He clutched his guitar in apprehension. 

 

“Seungyoon?” The voice on the other line answered.

 

Seungyoon’s fingers tightened on his phone. He swallowed nervously. “H-hyung.” 

 

“Where are you? Are you okay? Is everything alright?” The barrage of questions warmed him. 

 

“I’m fine.” He toyed with the sleeve of his sweater. “Sorry I wasn't able to call, my phone was broken and I was too busy to have it fixed.” He lied. Not about being busy though. After the eye opening encounter with Seunghoon, he buried himself in his work, producing song after song that his manager was ecstatic. 

 

“I see.” The bar owner did not sound convinced.

 

“Hyung, I won't be able to go to the bar as much. My day job has been… busy.” 

 

The pause sounded so loud in its silence. “Just… come by when you can, okay?” 

 

Seungyoon closed his eyes and hugged the feeling to himself. “Okay.” He whispered. 

 

Neither of them was anxious to end the line. Seungyoon tuned in to the soft breathing that was barely there, unwilling to cut the static that was connecting them. 

 

“Yoon.” 

 

His name carried by the wind like a wistful memory, he committed it to his own, kept safe and treasured. His throat tightened. 

 

“Come to me, okay? I miss you.” 

 

_ I miss you.  _

 

How was he supposed to keep his distance when the object of his unwavering devotion was shooting him where he was unguarded?

 

“Okay.” His heart answered for him. Seungyoon hung up first. He had to be cruel to himself in order to be kind. In his head, the lyrics of one of his favorite songs played on repeat and hummed.

 

_ Still my heart would benefit from a little tenderness from time to time, but never mind, _

 

_ Cause baby I'm a fool who thinks it's cool to fall in love _

 

*

 

The warmth was like a balm for the unforgiving prelude to winter. It was quite a pity that it was coming from his studio that was currently burning to the ground. Along with his belongings and entire livelihood. 

 

At some point it started raining as he stood there, faintly watching everything he worked for get decimated by the roaring inferno. He clutched at his guitar case and his laptop bag. The only things he managed to grab when the fire alarm started going off and the building manager frantically knocked on all the doors, shouting for everyone to vacate the building. 

 

Smoke billowed like a furious spirit while the rain battled to douse it. 

 

“Seungyoon, you need to take cover.” The kindly old man that was his building manager offered him an umbrella. 

 

He couldn't move, couldn't look away. His chest hurt. His face was frozen. 

 

Like a marionette that was wound, he started walking away, without purpose. Without aim.

 

He had nothing.

 

Everything seemed blurry, enshrouded by the layer of rain, the sounds of humanity muted. His vision narrowed down to the path he was walking. It felt like every nerve in his body has gone numb. He had no control over where his legs took him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Okay, I’m so sorry it’s been so long? T_T My vacation was heavily affected by medical issues, a brief hospital stay and month of recuperation. Please send me kind words, I am now a jobless Inseo. 
> 
> -I’ve been writing during all that free time, but nothing I wrote was worthy enough to post. Even this chapter I am not completely satisfied with, so I hope you can forgive me. T_T I’ve been writing a side fanfic to freshen my perspective, and that has helped a little. 
> 
> -The song I quoted was Melody Gardot’s “Baby I’m a fool”. It is one of my favorite songs, so if you have the time, please give it a try. :3 
> 
> -I sort of need a beta? 
> 
> -I have so much free time, please talk to me. Lol


	6. Don't Let me down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There seemed to have been a glitch the first time I uploaded this chapter, I was informed by a reader friend that chapter 6 was not showing, so I am reuploading. So sorry for the confusion. T_T

_ “So I placed my heart under lock and key to take some time, and take care of me. But I turn around and you're standing here” - Deborah Cox _

 

The bar was empty, his patrons have gone home early. He couldn’t blame them, the weather was horrid. Rain pelted the ground outside and cleared out the street of pedestrians. 

 

Seunghoon polished his wine glasses while waiting for water to boil for his tea. He looked up towards the door and what he saw had him drop the delicate crystal and run outside.

 

“Seungyoon!” He rasped, reaching the soaked figure standing stock still, holding on to his guitar with a death grip. 

 

His black hair was plastered to his face, eyes wide, pupils blown, showing no signs of recognition. Seunghoon put his hands to his face, trying to get a reaction. He frantically brushed Yoon’s hair from his eyes. He was freezing. How long has he been out and soaking? 

 

“Yoon. Can you hear me?” He peered into Seungyoon’s eyes, placing his hands on either side of his neck, his thumbs brushing the soft skin of his jaws. “Let’s get you inside, come on.” No reaction. He wouldn’t be moved.

 

Bordering on the side of panic, Seunghoon pulled him into a brusque hug, roughly running his hands on his back, then drew back to look at the younger again. His face was pale and his breathing was shallow with a bit of a crackle. 

 

“Yoonie, please. We need to get you out of the rain.” He pleaded, running his fingers back and forth on Yoon’s cheeks. 

 

His lashes fluttered, and his strangely unfocused eyes looked up at Seunghoon. 

 

“Hyung.” His voice raspy, no more than a whisper.

 

“Yes, Yoonie. It’s me. Let’s go inside.” He urged.

 

“It’s gone.” Seungyoon whimpered. A pronounced tremble started on his frame. 

 

Seunghoon froze. “What’s gone?” He asked. 

 

“Everything.” 

 

Like a guitar string wound too tightly, Seungyoon snapped and collapsed on the wet pavement. His guitar case fell with a loud clatter, Seunghoon made a conscious choice to catch Seungyoon instead. 

 

They both sank to their knees. Seungyoon gasped, his lips mouthing unintelligible words. His freezing hands were gripping Seunghoon’s arms as tight as they could. 

 

“Can’t- breathe.” Seungyoon started wheezing, his entire body racked by coughing sobs. 

 

“Yoon. Calm down. Please.” Seunghoon pulled the other flush to him, rubbing his back, alarmed by how upset Seungyoon was. He pried the younger’s hand from his arm and brought it to his chest. “Please, Yoonie. Breathe for me.” He muttered urgently. 

 

The coughing was so bad, Seungyoon was slightly gagging from the force of it. 

 

“Yoonie, come on. Tell me how to help you.” Seunghoon had never felt more helpless in his life. He wanted to just carry him and rush him to the hospital. The high pitched sounds of labored lungs were legitimately scaring him. 

 

For what seemed like the longest time, Seungyoon gasped out, “Inh-haler.”

 

Seunghoon looked around like an idiot until he caught sight of a backpack alongside the guitar case. Rummaging through it with shaking hands, he found the familiar gray device. He uncapped it and pressed it to Seungyoon’s lips.

 

The first pump barely got into the younger’s lungs.

 

“One more, Yoon.” He positioned it again. This time, it seemed like it gave a bit of relief. 

 

Still wheezing and coughing slightly, Seungyoon slumped into him, his sobs turning into little hiccups.

 

Finally able to breathe himself, Seunghoon tightened his hold on Seungyoon, totally disregarding the rain that was pelting them with icy drops. “There, there.” He whispered to the soaked soft hair, his hands rubbing circles on Seungyoon’s chest to soothe him. 

 

When the younger lay quiet and limp against him, Seunghoon carefully scooped him up into his arms, leaving the guitar and bag on the pavement, no one was going to bother stealing those, since his bar wasn't in the way of foot traffic. 

 

His brows furrowed when he noticed that Seungyoon was lighter than when he first carried him. He brought him up to his apartment with barely any effort, setting him down into the slipper tub, Seungyoon’s head lolling on the lip of the tub. He was lucid but looked drained. 

 

Seunghoon quickly jogged to get Seungyoon’s things inside and went back to the bathroom where he left him.

 

*

 

His head was foggy and his body felt like it was trapped in molasses with how tired he was. At that moment he was simply existing. 

 

Caring hands helped him take off his clothes and he sank into blissful warmth. He closed his eyes against the tears that wanted to sprout. Strong fingers brushed his cheekbones tenderly. 

 

“Everything will be okay, Yoonie.” The voice which Seungyoon’s heart recognized applied a healing balm to the wound that seemed insurmountable just a few moments ago. 

 

*

 

Seunghoon worriedly observed the younger’s thin visage. Seungyoon was now resting in his bed after soaking in the tub, wearing Seunghoon’s shirt and extra boxers (Minho crashed at his place often). For now, he seemed to be breathing normally, albeit pale and bluish dark circles ringed his eyes.

 

He stretched his muscles and stepped into the shower to chase away the remnants of the chill from the rain. He didn’t really linger as much as he would have wanted to, since he was worried Seungyoon might wake up confused where he was.

 

Wearing only sweatpants and a towel around his neck, he quietly prepared the ingredients for bean paste stew, checking on Seungyoon once in a while where his bed was situated. 

 

He renovated the apartment a two years ago, the master bedroom used to be enclosed away from the kitchen and living area. He took down the walls so it was a big sprawling studio with a small extra bedroom in case his friends or parents visited. Most of the time, his friends (Minho) crashed on his couch anyway, so the guest room was rarely used. 

 

He heard rustling and looked up from the pot he was stirring. Seungyoon was sitting up, his hair sticking up in all directions, looking dazed and totally out of it. 

 

Seunghoon left the pot to simmer and sat on the side of the bed with Seungyoon. Carefully, to not startle the younger, he brushed his fingers through the tangled locks of silky hair. 

 

“Yoonie, are you with me?” He asked softly. 

 

Slowly, Seungyoon raised his gaze, eyes limpid pools of warm brown rested on his face. “Hyung.” He murmured. 

 

“Yes it’s me.” He smiled, continuing his ministrations. Seungyoon closed his eyes and leaned towards Seunghoon’s hand, the corners of his lips tilting up slightly. 

 

“Feels nice.” He mumbled. 

 

“I made us soup. Can you handle food, Yoon?” He asked tentatively. 

 

After a few seconds, Seungyoon nodded. 

 

He drifted listlessly to the living room table where Seunghoon set their food.

 

“Sorry for being a bother, hyung.” Seungyoon said quietly, after they ate. 

 

“Can you tell me what happened? Are you feeling better?” He inquired cautiously, watching Seungyoon for signs of agitation. 

 

“I’m fine, hyung. Thank you for helping me.” 

 

Slim red fingers gripped the tea cup tightly as Seungyoon took a deep breath. 

 

“This afternoon… The building where my studio is… it burned down.” Seungyoon swallowed, his hands started shaking again. “Everything I ever worked for-- Everything I  _ own _ .”

 

Seunghoon gently prized his fingers from the cup and held on to Yoon’s hand tightly. He didn’t relent until Seungyoon brought his eyes to his. “Yoonie. We’ll figure it out, okay?” He said gravely, Seungyoon all wide eyed, nodded. 

 

What a mess. He honestly did not know how to fix this, but he did not like seeing Seungyoon so distraught. He had grown fond of the singer and his recent absence definitely made his daily life seem more empty than usual. Another thing for him to ask Seungyoon when things calmed down. 

 

They cleared the table and got ready for bed. 

 

“I’ll take the couch, hyung. Thanks for letting me stay the night. I’ll get out of your hair tomorrow.” Seungyoon said, shyly fidgeting with the hem of his sweater.

 

Seunghoon snorted. “Might as well share my bed, Yoon. It's big enough. As for staying somewhere else, you can use my spare bedroom for the time being. I’d offer it tonight, but the room is a mess.” 

 

Seungyoon muttered something unintelligible. 

 

“Besides, you already know we are compatible bed partners.” He added, winking, to make light of the situation. 

 

He literally saw color climb up from Seungyoon’s neck to the tips of his ears. How cute.

 

*

 

His mind was running a mile a minute, still feeling overwhelmed in spite of his sheer exhaustion. He was in Seunghoon’s bed again. This time invited. He couldn't think of an excuse of how that was a very bad idea. It was just for a night right?

 

That’s besides the point. His studio was gone. All he had was his laptop and his guitar. He was in Seunghoon’s bed. Seunghoon was shirtless. SHIRTLESS. 

 

“I can hear you thinking.” 

 

Oh dear lord. 

 

He choked on his own spit. Coughing raucously, he grabbed for his inhaler, lest the fit irritated his lungs again.

 

“Must be quite some thoughts eh?” Seunghoon rubbed his back. “Okay, first things first, is there something wrong with your lungs, Yoon?” Not really question, but a confirmation. 

 

He had always been careful in not divulging too much information even in his most unguarded moments around Seunghoon. Careful in not directly lying, just not forthcoming or sidestepping questions entirely. But seeing how he might be living in close quarters with Seunghoon for the next couple of days, he deserved some answers.

 

“A little. They’re just weak right now.” He answered truthfully. 

 

“And why is that?” 

 

He sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I was ill a couple of months ago. A cold developed to pneumonia.” At Seunghoon’s alarmed look, he rushed to assure “I am okay now.”

 

Seunghoon played with Seungyoon’s hair, the pads of his strong fingers lightly scratching his scalp. It felt good. Yoon closed his eyes. 

 

“Who was with you when you were sick? You don't tell me much about yourself or your friends.” Seunghoon laid back on his side of the bed, eyeing him seriously.

 

Sharp. Yoon knew that Seunghoon was catching on about his circumstances, but wasn't really pressuring him to say anything. 

 

“A good friend of mine stayed with me during that time.” he said briefly. 

 

“And your parents?” 

 

Ah. That. 

 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He really did not want to talk about that. 

 

He answered anyway. “My mother and I are not… close.” 

 

“I see.” Seunghoon did not press. Yoon appreciated the small act of kindess so much.

 

Words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. 

 

“She was disowned by her parents for eloping with my father. He left us when I was four.” 

 

Seunghoon gave him his undivided attention that prompted him to continue. “She had a really hard time raising me all by herself.” There were too many days of instant ramen that to this day Seungyoon tried to avoid eating it as much as possible. Too many nights of going to sleep hungry. Too many instances of being reminded what a burden he was. “I tried to help out as much as I could but what can a child really do?” 

 

He was not abused. He was not yelled at. He wasn’t hurt. 

 

He just wasn’t loved either. 

 

“My mom remarried when I was ten. I have an older step sister and a younger one.” Seungyoon started playing with the with the cuff of his sweater. “My stepfather loves my mother a lot.” _But not me._ _Not at all. Not even once._

 

He did try. He tried not to get in trouble. He did his best in everything. He applied himself. He even did odd jobs and errands for their neighbors so he didn’t have to ask for money. 

 

He just wanted to be able to sit at the dinner table and not feel guilty about the food that he put in his mouth.

 

“I moved out when I graduated high school.” Seungyoon lay on his side, facing the bar owner who was also turned towards him. “Got a scholarship in Seoul. Graduated. I am doing moderately well as a composer right now. And a bar singer.” He grinned cheekily, somewhat proud. Seunghoon patted his head praisingly and kept his hand on the side of Seungyoon’s neck. He ignored the fluttery feeling in his stomach. 

 

“We sort of lost contact. My mom has never been the type to keep in touch. My sisters went to college abroad.” 

 

He visited his mother a couple of times the first year he moved out, but it was made clear to him in no uncertain terms that the bastard son of that good for nothing gambler was not needed nor welcome in their household. By his stepfather. Out of earshot of course. Not that it would matter, if she heard. His mother did nothing. 

 

That was also the reason he wasn’t close to his step sisters. He was pretty sure they were told not to associate with him if they can help it. Jieun, older than him by two years was an obedient daughter. She rarely ever spoke to Seungyoon. Possibly to avoid her dad’s anger. Or she just didn’t care which was more likely. 

 

But Jisoo his other step sister, younger than him by four years, was different. She had the untainted innocence of the child that she was. She saw no reason avoid Seungyoon. She actively sought after him, following him around regardless of her father punishing her. So Seungyoon avoided her instead. He felt a twinge in his chest at the memory of a ten year old Jisoo crying at the locked door of his room asking him to play. 

 

He almost always came home late every time he could get away with it. He did his homework in the library. Anything to avoid being home. 

 

“I did my mandatory military service right after college along with my producer friend. The one that took care of me when I was sick.” Seungyoon continued. “I kept in contact with my mother through the occasional phone call.”

 

“I just found out two weeks ago that she changed her number.” He smiled bitterly, not looking at Seunghoon. Not wanting to see the pity there. He didn’t want to see the evidence of his pathetic existence reflected in his eyes.  

 

“She didn’t know you were sick?” 

 

He looked up at Seunghoon and saw the older’s face tight with anger. Speechless, Seungyoon shook his head. “I don’t think so.” It would make him feel better if she had no idea. It would be more kind. “I don’t think she would have cared.” He swallowed.

 

It must have been a relief for her when he moved out. If he died months ago, it would have permanently erased the stain in her life that he caused by simply living. Maybe then she could live fully happy. As if he never happened. 

 

A big warm hand suddenly clasped his cold one. Seungyoon stared at it transfixed, seeing his pale, blush tinged fingers twined with long, slightly tanned ones. He stared for a very long time. 

 

“No child asked to be born.” Seunghoon said quietly. Sincerely. “But I am glad a certain Kang Seungyoon exists with me, right at this moment.”

 

* 

 

In the stillness of the night, listening to the quiet breathing of the person he treasured most in the world, his anchor in the storm that battered his soul his whole life, burning tracks of his sorrow finally trailed down his temples and soaked into his hair and pillow. Endless, draining, robbing him of breath. He didn’t want to wake him. 

 

He put his fist against his heart to hold in the need to cry out the pent up grief he must have been born with. But he allowed the tears to fall for once. 

 

Slowly, he felt the broken pieces of his heart that seemed irreparable, shift and drift closer together. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I’m a sap. I was listening to Winner’s “For” a lot during the entirety of this chapter. 
> 
> -I got so engrossed writing the final scene that I didn’t notice ‘Bang bang bang’ was playing. LOL 
> 
> -I have good news and bad news. The good news: next chapter will reveal how Seungyoon first met Hoony. This will move the story along considerably. The bad news: I won’t be able to upload in the next two weeks or so, since I am flying back to the US and will be moving from Cali to another state. 
> 
> -So we’re almost halfway through the story! I am glad you guys stuck with me through my inconsistent upload dates. I am always grateful for your kind words of encouragement. 
> 
> -I hope to see you in the next chapter! In the meantime, give my other fics a go, you might like them too! *Shameless self promotion* :3


	7. I want to hold your hand

"Even a very small degree of hope is enough to cause the birth of love." - Stendhal 

 

_“_ _Out, get out!”_

 

_A firm hand grabbed him by the collar and forcibly dragged him to the door. His palms and knees hit the pavement as he was shoved out. He absently thought that it was still slightly warm from the afternoon sun._

 

_The door slammed behind him, muffling the pitiful crying of his little sister._

 

_He dusted his palms on his pants, wincing at the sudden sting. He looked down to see his palms scraped with little rocks embedded in the skin._

 

_Beads of blood started forming._

 

_He heard a creak from next door and saw his elderly neighbor Mrs. Choi looking at him with something akin to pity. He averted his gaze and stood up, bowing slightly to the lady and ran away._

 

_Jisoo just asked him for help with her mini terrarium. They were laughing when the turtle house they built collapsed entirely. He did not know that Jisoo’s father just arrived from work and that he heard them._

 

_His school was three kilometers away, but he didn’t really have money for the bus so he walked. But his right knee was hurting. Judging from the familiar sting, it was also scraped and bleeding. He kept walking anyway._

 

_The school was empty due to summer break. Some clubs made use of the facilities still, since the school allowed these activities._

 

_He washed his hands at the drinking fountain, the pain somewhat alleviated by the cold water. He washed his face too._

 

_The setting sun bathed the grounds in a warm orange glow, edges of violet lending an almost sad light to the place._

 

_He crouched against the corner of a stone plant box, wedging himself against it and the wall. It warmed his back and shoulders. Pulling up his hood up, he relaxed._

 

_He was safe._

 

_Counting his breaths against his heart beat, one, two, three, four, five -inhale- one, two, three, four, five -exhale-, again._

 

_His mother was on a trip with her friends, finally fulfilling a dream that she wasn’t able to do when it was just her and Seungyoon. He was happy for her. He was glad that she was finally happy._

 

_He just didn’t like being at the house when his mother was away. At least when she was around there was some sort of peace. It wasn’t warm or happy, but he wouldn’t get shouted at._

 

_The sound of crunching gravel startled him from his pensive state._

 

_A tall, lanky boy wearing a white t-shirt and oddly short shorts approached him._

 

_“Club activities are over. Were you waiting for someone?” He smiled, showing a double row of braces._

 

_He shook his head._

 

_“He stood you up, huh?”_

 

_Seungyoon had absolutely no idea what the boy was talking about, so he just stared wide eyed as the other sat down on the flower bed next to him._

 

_“You’re the fourth person that, that Jinsang kid stood up.”_

 

_“Jinsang?” He really had no idea who that person was._

 

_“Girls have been coming around to see him, but he always stood them up.”_

 

_Girls? Did he think… ?_

 

_Seungyoon was about to correct him, when a sprig of flowers was waved in front of his face._

 

_“Here. It looks like you need cheering up.”_

 

_The sweet smell of the flowers tickled his nose as he accepted the strange gift. Boys don’t give other boys flowers._

 

_“Heeeey, your hand is bleeding!” The other said loudly, grabbing Seungyoon’s wrist, pulling him up with him as he stood up._

 

_He was quite tall. Seungyoon had to look up at him. “You should be more careful. You could have messed up your hands.” The boy nagged, bringing Seungyoon’s palms to closer inspection. Up close, he had some blemishes. Seungyoon haven’t had his first pimple yet. The boy smelled like soap._

 

_“What happened?”_

 

_“Fell.” He murmured._

 

_“So clumsy.” The boy scolded gently. “Such pretty hands too.”_

 

_Seungyoon was too busy staring at his face to realize that a bandaid was applied to each of his palms. The small strips of plaster were not enough to cover the scrapes, but somehow they felt so much better._

 

_“Sorry, I only have two plasters left.” The boy scratched his head. Who carried plasters around?_

 

_He felt a hand pet his hair. “Don’t worry about boys too much okay? There will be time for that when you’re older.” Came the sage advice._

 

_Seungyoon nodded solemnly._

 

_“But if you find other boys too bothersome in the future, just look for me and I will be your boyfriend.” He flashed Seungyoon an ingenious smile. “My name is Lee Seunghoon. Don’t forget.”_

 

*

 

Seungyoon woke up from the most pleasant dream. He stretched and opened his eyes.

 

A lump of bright orange was parked in front of his face that it took him a moment to comprehend what it was. He hesitantly touched it. Fur.

 

The lump moved and turned over on its back.

 

It was a cat.

 

A fat cat.

 

A fat cat with a smushed face.

 

“Hello.” He whispered, cautiously scratching it between the ears.

 

The cat purred.

 

He was in love.

 

The cat rolled over closer to Seungyoon when he heard another timid meow nearby. He tilted his head, another cat was perched by the headboard.

 

But contrary to how fluffy the cat on his chest was, this cat was bald. Like. Alien bald.

 

He blinked. The cat blinked back.

 

“Meow.” Seungyoon said softly.

 

The alien cat meowed back and jumped down by Seungyoon’s head.  

 

“Oh my god, you’re adorable too.” Seungyoon murmured as he felt the cat try to groom him. He snuggled into the orange fur, the two creatures purring like soft engines surrounding him.

 

“Yoonie!” A deep voice boomed and a heavy weight fell on top of him, startling the cats into hissing.

 

“Minho, careful!” Another familiar voice. Seungyoon was busy trying to catch the breath that was literally body slammed from his lungs. But then he was locked into a bone crushing hug.

 

“Can’t. Breathe.” He gasped, pushing away from Minho who was trying to meld Seungyoon’s face into his chest.

 

Suddenly, the pressure eased, and Seungyoon caught his breath again. Jinwoo was holding the back collar of a dejected looking Minho.

 

“Stop bothering Seungyoon. He just woke up.” Jinwoo stood, the sun shining behind him making him look like some earthbound celestial being.

 

After not seeing him for a while, being exposed to him like this was like a shock to the system. Too much visual stimulation.

 

“Give him at least a few minutes after waking up, before bombarding him. Especially Jinwoo hyung, though I know you can’t help it.”

 

Seungyoon craned his neck to see Seunghoon who had an apron on and was making breakfast from the smell of it.

 

“Yoonie! Where have you been? I missed you. You left me on read!” Mino pouted.

 

“Just…” Seungyoon averted his eyes. “Been busy. Sorry.”

 

A hand ruffled his hair. “We understand. Just let us know next time, okay? We were worried.” Jinwoo reprimanded gently. “Come here.” He was wrapped in a more comforting hug, smelling of flowers and coffee. Seungyoon leaned into it, closing his eyes, savoring the softness of his oldest hyung that somehow adopted him too.

 

Seunghoon called them all for breakfast. It was surprisingly a hearty one. Bacon, eggs and pancakes.

 

“Here.” Seunghoon set a mug of hot chocolate in front of him and sat at the head of the table, while Jinwoo and Minho sat on the opposite side.

 

“Thanks.” He murmured, a little touched that Seunghoon remembered that he didn’t really like coffee. He even put a little bird shaped marshmallow on top.

 

“Hey, how come Yoonie gets a special marshmallow?” Minho said through a mouthful of pancake.

 

“Because you already ate the first batch that Yunhyeong gave me. I saved this for Yoonie.” Seungyoon’s heart fluttered as the older smiled at him. “Eat.” Seunghoon ordered. So he did.

 

He didn’t see Jinwoo and Minho share conspiratory smiles.

 

*  


“You really didn’t have to close your shop, hyung.” Seungyoon said, but he let himself be coddled by Jinwoo who running his fingers through his hair and randomly petting him.

 

After breakfast, Seungyoon was informed that the flower shop and the bar will be closed for the day, so the hyungs could stay with him. He had no idea what Minho did, but he assumed he was taking the day off as well.

 

He was grateful. He truly was. But he didn’t know why they were doing it. For him. Why?

 

“Of course I have to. I haven’t seen our youngest for a while.” Jinwoo affectionately hugged him around the head.

 

Seungyoon felt warmth bloom in his chest and blinked rapidly to combat the sting in his eyes. For some reason, these people are his friends.

 

“Seunghoonie told us what happened last night.” Jinwoo murmured against his hair as Seungyoon stiffened. “We’ll help you sort it out okay?”

 

Seungyoon nodded. He felt Minho’s hand on his back. “You can stay with me, if you want.” He offered.

 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Seunghoon look up from where he was sipping coffee. “He’s fine here, Minho. I have enough room.”

 

“My apartment is bigger, I also have a spare room, plus, it is close to your studio.” Minho said, addressing Seungyoon.

 

“I said, he's fine here.” The sudden tension with how stiffly Seunghoon sounded had the room turn dead silent.

 

Seungyoon nervously looked back and forth between them, not really knowing how to appease the situation.  But Minho solved that problem for him. His eyes creased at the corners into little crescents, shining white teeth broke into a grin.

 

“Gotcha.”

 

*

 

Seungyoon sat gaping as Camilla just made everything alright in his world.

 

“Seungyoon, did you understand what I said?” She kindly patted his hand. He nodded dumbly.

 

Camilla coincidentally owned the building where Seungyoon rented his studio. Another tenant left his stove on. The fire spread quickly because of all the soundproofing, since the building catered mostly to musicians.

 

The sprinkler system worked fast and did its job, so Seungyoon’s studio did not burn, however there was considerable smoke and water damage.

 

“Please let me know the cost of all the damages, and I will personally recompense you.” Camilla continued. “Were you suitably relocated? Are you in need of accommodations? I will cover that as well.”

 

Seunghoon set down a cup of tea in front of Camilla. “Yoon is staying with me for the time being, Camilla.”

 

“Oh that’s good!” She clasped her hands looking delighted. “At least I don’t have to worry where our Yoonie is staying.”

 

“You don’t have to replace my stuff. I’m sure I will be able to recover most of it.” Seungyoon said, shyly.

 

“Nonsense. Your rent includes insurance for such circumstances.” She waved his concerns away. He was afraid that she was being gracious just because he was Seunghoon’s employee.

 

“Now, I know Minho and Jinwoo are upstairs, please call them to entertain me, while you two assess the damage at the studio.” She did another careless wave of her hand and summarily dismissed both of them.

 

*

 

Seungyoon had Seunghoon wait for him at a nearby cafe instead of coming up to his studio. The older adamantly refused at first, but he did not want the older to see the state of his place.

 

He was moping around for weeks and also working almost nonstop so his dirty clothes piled up and takeout containers were stashed by the bin, ready to be disposed. It wasn’t dirty, since Seungyoon couldn’t handle his place being too messy, but there was also an item there that he couldn’t risk Seunghoon to see.

 

He went straight to his bedroom. The water damage was there, his beddings were soaked and so were his clothes, he would have to deal with those.

 

But the most important thing, he opened his bedside drawer and in it was a framed photograph.

 

Seunghoon’s.

 

He took it secretly when they were in high school and Seunghoon’s team won the soccer regional finals. He was team looked so cool with the team uniform, braces and all.  

 

Since Seunghoon was two years his senior, they never really crossed paths, and Seungyoon never thought to introduce himself, there was no point to it. Seunghoon would never recognize him, since his hair was cut shorter according to the regulations of their school.

 

He remembered the times when his heart would beat so fast each time Seunghoon passed by. Halfway hoping to be recognized and also dreading it.

 

He never did. And that was fine.

 

Seungyoon started watching him out of curiosity at first. The guy was very friendly. He had so many friends of all year levels, it was unbelievable. He was very popular. Very smart too. He was usually within the top ten students of his year.

 

Slowly, he started noticing the little things. How nice he was to others. How considerate.

 

How he had the slightest, barely even there dimples.

 

How his lips were small and were shaped like a cupids bow, but opened widely showing teeth when he smiled.

 

He was the brightest thing in Seungyoon’s life at that time.

 

And now Seungyoon found him years later, just when he thought he would never see him again after high school. He became his star again.

 

All those years didn’t dull the feeling, if anything it got stronger now that Seungyoon got to know him. He was everything he dreamed about and more.

 

Age has made him more beautiful. He finally got to see him without braces. He was taller.

 

He was also not for him.

 

He had been stupid to hope for anything more and throwing a tantrum when he didn’t get it.

 

From now on, he will be content with what he had. Be grateful that he had more than what he did a few months ago.

 

He pocketed the frame, grateful that it wasn’t damaged in any way and rounded up what needed to be done in his room.

 

A few minutes later, he got a call from Seunghoon.

 

“You better hide your porn collection and your GDragon poster, because I am tired of waiting.” Was the only warning he got, and Seunghoon hung up.

 

Seungyoon scrambled to hide any incriminating evidence. He didn’t have porn, because honestly, who even buys that nowadays? But he did roll up his poster that was thankfully not damaged.

 

*

 

“Why do you have more electronic stuff than actual clothes, Kang Seungyoon?” Seunghoon huffed as he hauled two bags of wet clothes into the elevator.

 

“I don’t see a lot of people, hyung.” Seunghoon struggled with a sound mixer and small speakers. “I work from home. Most of the time.”

 

His apartment was maybe a kilometer away from Siren, and they opted to walk instead of taking a taxi. The rest of Seungyoon’s stuff that did not need to be dried were stored in the shed provided by the building manager.

 

They made the trip with a lot of breaks, since Seungyoon got tired easily which Seunghoon teased him about.

 

Camilla was gone by the time they arrived home, but Jinwoo and Minho were still there, emerging from the cellar with suspiciously red faces. Seunghoon looked from one guilty face to the other and narrowed his eyes.

 

Minho shifted from foot to foot and Jinwo was pointedly ignoring him as he buttoned his cuff.

 

“Seungyoonie, let’s go eat out tonight. Is there anything you want to eat?” Minho cleared his throat.

 

“Grilled meat! Kimchi stew!” Seungyoon answered enthusiastically.

 

“Of course we have to treat our youngest to grilled meat and kimchi stew.” Jinwoo affirmed.

 

“Yay!” Seungyoon raised his arms above his head, his face scrunched in a happy grin as him and Minho celebrated. Cute.

 

Jinwoo finally caught Seunghoon’s eye and they both shared a smile.

 

The four of them got into a taxi since it was too cold to walk to the restaurant that they frequented. The owner greeted them with familiarity, delighting over the new face that they brought with them.

 

“You bring me pretty ones.” The wrinkled face smiled at Seungyoon who flushed at the compliment but smiled back.

 

The food was great, as per usual. But there was something satisfying about seeing Seungyoon stuff his face. Jinwoo and Minho apparently shared the same sentiment. They all took turns giving him pieces of meat and side dishes.

 

“Here Yoonie, try this scallop.” Minho fed him, the younger making delighted sounds at all the food he was given.

 

“Eat some rice too.” Seunghoon said, which Seungyoon obeyed.

 

Cute.

 

Seunghoon was grilling the meat since the other two tended to overcook them. He piled pieces on Seungyoon’s plate more than the others. Jinwoo’s dimple showed each time Seunghoon did so.

 

“Eat more.”

 

Seungyoon whined into Minho’s shoulder, after being consistently force fed by all of them. “Can’t.”

 

“How about dessert?” Jinwoo suggested, rubbing Seungyoon’s back. “Yunhyeong made some pecan tarts.”

 

Silence.

 

A nod.

 

Cute.

 

The wind outside was bracing while waiting as Minho paid for their meal. Seungyoon was under Jinwoo’s arm as they huddled for warmth.

 

“Seungyoon!” A scratchy voice called out.

 

They all turned to see a tall man, probably Seunghoon’s height, grab their youngest from Jinwoo and pulled him into a crushing hug.

 

“Hyung!” Seungyoon’s voice was muffled, but all of them stood to attention since they weren’t quite sure which ‘hyung’ he was referring to.

 

But he returned the hug. Seunghoon’s hand clenched in his pocket.

 

The taller man separated from Seungyoon, peering into his face. “I just got here. I came as soon as I found out. Why didn’t you call me? I would have flown home right away. You have a key to my apartment. Are you staying there right now?”

 

“He is staying with me.” Seunghoon cut in.

 

Both heads turned to Seunghoon.

 

It was quite a surreal experience. They looked remarkably similar, only the stranger had bleach blond hair. But it was essentially like looking at both night and day versions of Seungyoon, since their coats were opposite colors as well.

 

“Ah, let me introduce...” Seungyoon started awkwardly. “Seunghoon-hyung, this is my childhood friend, Jiho-hyung. Jiho-hyung, this is my boss.”

 

Boss? Well, technically Seungyoon wasn’t his formal employee since he got paid in food. Didn’t that at least make them friends? He fed Minho all the time. Seunghoon buried the unsettling feeling and shook the other person’s hand.

 

“Do you have any idea how worried I was when the building manager said you just walked away and he didn’t know where you went?” He turned back and gave Seungyoon a gentle shake then pulled him back into his arms. “You’re going to stay with me, okay?”

 

Why was everyone trying to get Seungyoon to stay with them? Irritation had his brows crease.

 

“That’s okay, hyung. I am staying with Seunghoon-hyung.”

 

The other man finally looked at Seunghoon fully for the first time. Dawning realization crossed Jiho’s expression. It was as if he recognized Seunghoon, but Seunghoon could have sworn that they’ve never met before.

 

“Jiho-hyung?” Everyone turned towards Minho’s voice.

 

“Minho?” The other guy looked incredulous. So did Seungyoon.

 

“You guys know each other?” Seungyoon asked.

 

Minho’s eyes widened. “HOLY SHIT. YOU GUYS LOOK ALIKE.” In a daze, he pinched Seungyoon and Jiho’s cheeks, to which the latter swatted Minho’s hands away. “Wow. Amazing.”

 

Seunghoon was confused.

 

“I am so confused.” Jinwoo voiced out.

 

“Is Seungyoon the childhood friend that you’ve been hiding from me?” Minho asked.

 

“Minho?” Seungyoon looked at Jiho incredulously. “You mean, your club owner friend Minho that you work with, is this Minho? You own a club?” Seungyoon questioned said person who nodded.

 

“So let me get this straight. Seungyoon is friends with you and you are friends with Minho, but somehow Seungyoon and Minho have never met until recently?” Jinwoo clarified.

 

“I’ve been trying to meet Jiho-hyung’s childhood friend for the longest time, but he was very protective. Funny how fate works.” Minho grinned mischievously, but then his grin slipped. “Jiho-hyung, you mentioned that your childhood friend was very sick a couple of months ago, Yoonie, were you sick?”

 

Very sick? Seunghoon was now looking at Seungyoon, every fine bone that stood out from his skin now had a different significance than him just being naturally skinny.

 

“Yeah it’s him.” Jiho answered, pulling Seungyoon close to his side, as if to comfort himself.

 

Minho’s demeanor suddenly became sad and concerned.

 

“Jiho-hyung was distraught that time.” Minho took Seungyoon’s hands in his.

 

“You almost died.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -So sorry for the long wait. I have no excuse. T_T I promise I am not planning to abandon this story, it’s just been quite difficult for me to write lately. Because life.
> 
> -Finally I was able to tell Seungyoon’s story, how they first met. I hope it didn’t disappoint you guys.
> 
> -If you go back a few chapters, Jiho has already been mentioned and appeared as a cameo. :D
> 
> -I just realized that I don’t use Siren enough as the bar’s name that you guys may have been thrown off when I used it here.
> 
> -Not really important, but the chapter title was inspired by Seunghoon, there was a vlive episode when he mentioned that he listened to a lot of old songs and he sang the hook of “I want to hold your hand” by the Beatles.
> 
> -So I am on Twitter now? @usmarchioness - you can follow me. Or not. :)


	8. This time

_ “Do not seek the because - in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions.” - Anais Nin _

 

They were on a train to Busan. 

 

Seungyoon's death grip on the wrapped gift he brought made it seem like he was starring in a horror film, rather than visiting Seunghoon's family. 

 

Sweat started beading on his upper lip. 

 

Meanwhile, Seunghoon was seated beside him, his head uncomfortably knocking against the window. 

 

He did not really know why on earth he agreed to meet Seunghoon’s family and he couldn’t find any reason as to why it was necessary for Seungyoon to be there either. 

 

Sure he lived with Seunghoon for the time being despite both of them knowing that Seungyoon’s apartment was ready to live in, a week after the fire incident. But their arrangement have been so comfortable that neither of them said anything about it and continued their routines. 

 

By now, Seungyoon had gotten used to waking up to Seunghoon stretching his long limbs right in front of him. Shirtless. 

 

Or basically the older walking around in minimal clothing, since he kept the apartment at a constant temperature that of a tropical country. 

 

It was impossible for Seungyoon to keep his layers too or he would die of heatstroke, so he got his modesty out of the way and started going around clad in his boxers and shirt too. 

 

Neither of them said anything about the fact that Seungyoon still slept in Seunghoon’s bed even though there was a perfectly good guest room available. 

 

Seunghoon never complained about Seungyoon’s tendency to cuddle in his sleep even though he teased him enough about it in the morning. 

 

They did their own thing during the day, Seungyoon making use of the guest room as a studio to complete his projects and Seunghoon on his desk scribbling madly into his notebook, poring over his references and typing like a mad scientist into his computer. 

 

He did not actually know what the older did aside from managing Siren, until he asked him about it one day. 

 

“I write poetry.” 

 

“So you’re a poet?” Seungyoon clarified. It was definitely something he did not expect. 

 

“No. I just write poetry. Pretty words strung together to be made relatable to some angst ridden sixteen year old in their first relationship.” 

 

“So… you’re a poet.” He was confused. A person who wrote poetry was a poet right? 

 

“No, being a poet is a lifestyle, you see. I cannot commit to drowning in emotion day in and day out. I just get an idea, I write it out. I send it to my publisher who makes them into a book.” 

 

If he did not want to be called a poet, then Seungyoon wouldn’t call him one.  Though publishing an actual book of poetry said otherwise. 

 

“Do you have a book in circulation right now?” 

 

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, as if embarrassed by this. 

 

“And I assume you go by a pseudonym?” 

 

“Lee Hee.” 

 

Seungyoon’s jaw dropped. 

 

He collected the poetry books from that author. He admired the intensity hidden under the simple lines of it. It was a study in austerity, the way it was written, but the way the words evoked deep emotion was something appreciated by the readers. 

 

The author never made a single public appearance, nor was there any indication of age or gender, which intensified the mystery and appeal of the book. 

 

In his excitement, he grabbed Seunghoon’s hand and shook it, startling the older, eyes widening. 

 

“I am such a fan!” He said effusively. “I have all of your books!” All the while swinging their hands back and forth. 

 

Seunghoon’s face broke into a grin, and ruffled his hair. “You’re such a dork.” 

 

He treasured those little moments of affection. Lapping them up like a starved creature and storing them for later. Seunghoon seemed to have noticed this and was more openly affectionate, almost doting. 

 

*

 

The boy was so nervous, Seunghoon could almost see his anxiety radiating. 

 

He decided to invite him over to his parents over the holidays since he was closing the bar, and Seungyoon didn’t look like he had anywhere to go anyway. 

 

Minho told him that his friend Jiho confirmed that Seungyoon was definitely not close to his family. He said it with such disgust that his suspicions why this was so, were also confirmed. 

 

He would have to ask Minho about that if Seungyoon doesn’t tell him himself. 

 

They still had a two hour train ride though, and it would be good if Seungyoon didn’t get too worked up imagining all sorts of things. 

 

“Yoonie, lend me your shoulder.” He pulled Seungyoon to him and rested his head on the bony shoulder that was padded with the fluffy sweater Jinwoo gave him as an early christmas present. 

 

The younger stiffened at the contact but eventually relaxed and leaned slightly to the side to make their position more comfortable. 

 

Seunghoon normally was aloof when it came to being physically affectionate, usually reserving his hugs to his close friends and family on special occasions, but for some reason, he did not mind it with Seungyoon. 

 

He did not mind that sometimes when Seungyoon was excited, he had the tendency to grab his hand or his arm, or that he liked to cuddle close, casually hooking his chin over Seunghoon’s shoulder while he was preparing their food, or playfully throwing a leg over his when they were arguing about a scene from a movie they watched on his big TV before sleeping. 

 

He did not mind.

 

There were times at night when he woke up from Seungyoon pressing his face against his back unknowingly, brows furrowed from whatever dream he was having. Or times when he just looked indescribably lonely even in his sleep. 

 

So he let him. It was easy enough to just turn around and let him burrow closer. Easy enough to put his arms around him until the troubled expression smoothed over. 

 

*

 

“Oh my.” 

 

Seungyoon wanted to disappear. He was literally trying to meld into Seunghoon's back. He did not know why he was suddenly overcome by this shyness.

 

Only that the moment the older woman opened the door and welcomed her son, he was forcefully reminded of what he didn't have. What he never had. Everything that he lacked. 

 

And he was ashamed. 

 

“Who do we have here?” Her voice was soft, the cadence of her words measured, just like how her son spoke. 

 

An arm came around his shoulders and firmly pulled him forward. His face and ears were burning. 

 

“Mom, this is Seungyoon, the one I told you about. He sings at the bar.” 

 

He quickly bowed low to Mrs. Lee, “I’m Kang Seungyoon. Thank you so much for having me.” He mumbled and offered his gift, still unable to look her in the eye.

 

“Oh my.” She said again, but she took the box from him. He did not know what to get them, so he just bought a bunch of expensive tea as a hostess gift. “Such a thoughtful boy.” 

 

He chanced a glimpse at her, and saw her smiling. “So polite.” She said, patting his shoulder. “Your mother taught you well.” 

 

A lead weight dropped in his stomach and felt color rush into his face. It wasn’t that his mother taught him. He just overheard her teaching his stepsisters. But still, he figured that the same etiquette applied for males and females. 

 

Seunghoon ruffled his hair and pushed him inside. 

 

*

 

Dinner went by without a hitch. Seungyoon overcame his shyness and blended in well with his mother and sisters. His family was as intuitive as usual and sensed the younger’s reservations, and they worked hard to make him feel comfortable and included. 

 

His mom got him to help around in the kitchen while Seunghoon watched on. 

 

They asked him all sorts of questions, like the nagging women that they were. About his job, about his friends, but no questions regarding his family. He didn’t know if Seungyoon noticed this, but the younger became comfortable enough that he chatted with them like with how he normally did with Seunghoon at the bar. 

 

Seunghoon showed him his old bedroom that his mom set up to accommodate both of them. Two folding mattresses were on the floor stacked with pillows and blankets.

 

It was quite late, his sisters and their children didn’t go home until his little niece literally fell asleep in Seungyoon’s lap. He was the children’s favorite. Probably because he played like a kid too. He instantly became ‘Yoonie oppa’ to them. 

 

“It unfair that the kids call you oppa while they call me uncle.” He griped. 

 

Seungyoon’s chin dimpled and his eyes crinkled. “Well, you can’t be their oppa, and I don’t really look like an uncle yet so…” 

 

“This brat.” He grabbed him around the neck and playfully rubbed his knuckle on the crown of his head. 

 

“Ah hyuuuuung.” The younger complained, and wrapped his arms around his waist to get away, but Seunghoon wouldn’t let him. 

 

They fell into the mattress, play fighting, rolling around. At some point, Seungyoon’s head was under his arm, while he had his legs around the boy’s torso, tickling him without mercy. 

 

Undignified squawks and squeaks sounded, while he was laughing, he saw his door slide open as his mother stood there with two mugs of cider and a plate of fruit, looking at them indulgently. 

 

“Oh, hi mom.” He said in between breaths, still not letting go, as Seungyoon tried to wriggle free.

 

“Mrs. Lee.” Seungyoon gasped, pinching Seunghoon’s side. “Your son!” 

 

Seunghoon slapped his butt lightly. “I can’t believe you’re asking my mother for help?” 

 

His mother laughed. “I cut up some fruits for you boys. I’ll set them on the table okay?” She left. 

 

Seungyoon finally managed to get out of his hold, only because he let him, face all red and hair standing on the end. “You’re mean.” He panted. 

 

“And you’re weak.” He teased, chucking his chin. “Come eat some fruit.” 

 

*

 

“I can hear your stomach.” 

 

Seungyoon consciously crossed his arms over his growling belly. He ate enough for dinner and had fruit after. Why was he still hungry? 

 

His bed partner turned to face him, bare shoulder shining in the moonlight. The clarity of his eyes told him he hasn’t slept yet. 

 

“Let’s sneak out.” 

 

And that was how he found himself straddling a Ducati behind Seunghoon, his entire body plastered to his back and his arms holding on for dear life. 

 

The familiar streets of his hometown whizzed past and sent bolts of bittersweet in him. He closed his eyes against the feeling and tightened his arms around Seunghoon’s waist. It has been a while. 

 

They breezed past a tunnel and the night sky expanded, meeting the sea, blowing the cold sea breeze into them. Cleansing. Bracing. 

 

Finally they stopped at the seafood restaurant by the beach that was open twenty four hours. He half jogged to the entrance, because it was very cold and also because he could smell the food being grilled and he felt his hunger tenfold. 

 

“Hyung, hurryyyy!” He called to Seunghoon who was setting his motorcycle’s kickstand and hung his helmet on the handlebars. 

 

He went in first and seated himself, knowing how casual the restaurant was. Jiho took him there often when they were younger. It was one of their favorite restaurants. 

 

“Seungyoon!” The older man who owned the establishment greeted him like a long lost son and pulled him into a brusque hug.  

 

“Uncle!” He laughed and returned the gesture. 

 

“I haven’t seen you in years! You’ve grown!” He patted his face and shoulders proudly. “Are you hungry? Of course you are, let’s get you a seat. Jiho hasn’t come to visit me either, you rascals forgot about this old man.” 

 

“Of course not, uncle.” Seungyoon murmured as he let himself be pulled into the restaurant. 

 

“Are you alone?” 

 

“He’s with me.” The owner did not see Seunghoon come in, surprise was on his face. 

 

“Seunghoon! I haven’t seen you in a while either.” He gave Seunghoon the same firm back pats that he gave Seungyoon. “I am surprised you boys know each other, but then I remember you both went to the same school.” 

 

Seunghoon’s puzzled expression all of a sudden made Seungyoon’s heart drop. This was what he wanted to avoid. He did not exactly tell Seunghoon the rest of his story. He was too careless. He should have known that there would be a high possibility that they frequented the same places. But this restaurant was closer to Jiho’s school than Seungyoon’s, so he thought it was far enough from the places Seunghoon would go to. 

 

“You went to the same school as me?” Sharp eyes took in every detail of his expression. Seungyoon’s palms started sweating.

 

“Yeah.” He mumbled and picked at his sleeve. 

 

A long silence filled the air that the owner felt the need to interrupt, “Let me get you boys some food, on the house. You still like the grilled squid, Yoonie?” 

 

To his relief, Seunghoon seemed to have let go of the issue and started grilling their food. 

 

*

 

The only reason that Jiho let Seungyoon stay with Seunghoon was because Minho vouched for him. 

 

He was overly protective, he knew. And for good reason. 

 

He threw back the shot that Minho poured for him. Miho invited him for drinks at his club’s private area, and of course he agreed, knowing that he would also be interrogated. 

 

He and Seungyoon were neighbors. They met for the first time when he was thirteen and Seungyoon was ten years old, and he just moved in with his mom when she remarried. 

 

Seungyoon was playing by himself in the playground by Jiho’s house, the sun was about to set. 

 

“Hey kid, aren’t you supposed to be home now?” He asked.

 

He was so little. So skinny and pale. Almost like a girl with his pale yellow hoodie. He reminded Jiho of a baby chick. 

 

The boy shook his head. 

 

“Well you should you know. Your mom might be looking for you.” Jiho squatted to where he was scribbling lines into the sand. 

 

“She’s not.” 

 

Dense, he asked, “What do you mean?” 

 

“She won’t look for me. She never does. I just go home.” 

 

He didn’t know what to say. 

 

In their awkward silence, he actually heard the boy’s stomach growl. 

 

‘Wanna eat dinner at my place? My mom made marinated beef!” 

 

And that is how their friendship began. 

 

Seungyoon often wandered around, never really seeking company. Just loitering with his book bag after, doing his assignments in random places. Jiho sought him out, afraid that he would actually zone out and get run over by a car or something.

 

He took him in like a stray, and his blessed, generous mother, saw the boy’s situation and made it a point to treat him with kindness too, almost like a third son. 

 

“Has he been eating enough?” He asked Minho. “He tends to forget, he’s already so skinny.” 

 

Minho smiled, probably amused by his mothering, quite contrary to his rough personality that he was used to. 

 

“Yeah. If anything Seunghoon hyung is even more strict than you are when it comes to feeding Yoonie. Not to mention Jinwoo hyung who treats him like a baby.” 

 

“Good, good.” He sighed. He regretted being away. He just had enough time to watch over Seungyoon a month into his recovery, afterwards Seungyoon shooed him away and told him to tend to his own affairs.

 

Which he did, because he was forced to. 

 

He knew all about his secret crush. The crush that he harbored ever since they were kids. 

 

He also knew that Seungyoon had been ecstatic when he found out about the bar that Seunghoon apparently owned. But he was too scared, too insecure to make a move. Too fucking scared of rejection. 

 

Maybe almost dying changed his perspective about things. 

 

“What happened?” Minho finally asked. 

 

“He was given project after project. Worked too hard for too long.” He rubbed the rim of his glass with his index. “It started with a simple cough that was ignored. It went on for a while and I didn’t really notice, I was doing my own thing, keeping up with him only when convenient.” Jiho’s mouth twisted. “I didn’t notice.” 

 

The harrowing phone call of Seungyoon literally gasping for air, asking him to come over, and Jiho finding him collapsed on the bathroom floor of his apartment the sound of his breath as if he had water in his lungs was something he tried to forget. 

 

But he couldn’t. 

 

He would never forget the longest ten minutes of his life waiting for the ambulance while his childhood friend lay in his arms, lips blue and so close to dying. 

 

He remembered praying like he never prayed before. Praying for the person who never experienced happiness in his life. 

 

It brought him back to the time when he took a gap year after graduating high school to save up for college and he had to leave Seungyoon in Busan while he worked in Seoul. 

 

He was visiting his mom during the holidays when he saw the familiar figure standing by the bridge, hunched over looking into the water, as if-

 

“Seungyoon!” It was the fastest he ever ran in his life. His arms going around the skinny frame, not registering the sound of pain that came from it, his only concern was getting him away from the edge and into safety. 

 

He forcefully pulled him, the younger not resisting, until he tripped backwards in his panic and they both fell to the ground. 

 

“What. The. Fuck.” He sat up with Seungyoon, still holding on to him, afraid that he would try to escape. But he lay pliant, shivering slightly. “What the fuck, Yoonie.” He repeated, shaking him a little.

 

“Jiho… hyung.” His voice was faint. “It hurts.” 

 

Only then did he actually look at him. 

 

He was covered with bruises. His arms were around his middle protectively. 

 

There was dried blood that tracked from his temple, down his jaw and neck and on to the collar of his shirt. 

 

“What the fuck.” He said again, this time fury was in his tone. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker.” He motioned to stand up, but Seungyoon’s cry of pain and fright stopped him.

 

“Hyung, no please.” Skeletal hands grabbed on to him. Voice pleading, “Please don’t. I fell. Please don’t.” 

 

He took a breath to calm the anger that was burning inside. Yoonie was hurt. His Yoonie was injured. The bastard never lay a finger on Seungyoon before. 

 

“He hurt you.” He gritted. 

 

“It was an accident. I fell down the stairs.” He said with so much conviction that Jiho almost believed him. “Please. Please don’t make trouble for her.”

 

Her. 

 

That made him even more angry. Helplessly angry. 

 

Seungyoon started crying. 

 

“Please.” He pleaded, pained sobs shook his body. “I don’t want to ruin this for her too. Please.” 

 

Jiho held him as tight as he would dare, not knowing the extent of his injuries. He buried his face into Seungyoon’s hair, his own tears dripping on to the silky strands. 

 

He shouldn’t have left him. 

 

“Let’s take you to the doctor.” 

 

At once, Seungyoon started struggling again. “No. No. Please, they will find out.” 

 

He made soothing noises. “Yoonie, you’re eighteen now. You don’t need a guardian anymore. They don’t need to find out.” He smoothed his hand over his cold arms. 

 

When that registered he slumped against Jiho again, as if all the strength was sapped from him. “I hurt. So much.” 

 

“I know.” He twined his fingers with Yoon's skinny ones. 

 

The younger turned his head so his wet eyes were hidden against Jiho's neck. 

 

“I'm so tired of hurting all the time.” He whispered, hot tears burned Jiho’s skin from his throat to his chest. Straight to his heart. 

 

“It would have been so easy to just… stop.” 

 

The faint words chilled Jiho to the core. He held Seungyoon closer to him if possible, rocking him in his arms. He could not imagine a world anymore where Kang Seungyoon did not exist, and the mere thought of it terrified him. 

 

“Don’t say that. You won’t hurt anymore. I promise.” He rasped, his heart and throat scraped raw, bleeding. 

 

The boy nodded, as if to placate him. 

 

He had to clarify. He needed to make sure Seungyoon knew. “You’re coming with me to Seoul, okay?” He squeezed his hand for a response. 

 

It took a few seconds. The longest few seconds. 

 

A nod.

 

*

 

“Did you call Yoonie for breakfast?” His mom nagged, setting a plate of eggs and toast on the table.  

 

He was amused at how his mother has taken to treating Seungyoon like a lost puppy that needed love. He was even more amused by Seungyoon’s bashful reactions even though he accepted the gestures all the same. If they were out on the streets, people might think that Seungyoon was the actual son, and that was fine with him. Seunghoon knew that the boy needed a lot of mothering, and he was more than happy to lend his own for that task. 

 

“Yeah. He is a little hard to wake up.” He said. As if on cue, Seungyoon came out in a borrowed shirt, barefoot and rumpled, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes. 

 

Not really looking where he was going, he sort of just walked over and stopped when he bumped into Seunghoon. He patted his head patiently, waiting for him to get his wits together. 

 

“Eat while the food is warm.” 

 

Seungyoon gave a little whine, his head bumping Seunghoon’s shoulder but sat anyway. 

 

“Thanks for the food, Mrs. Lee.” 

 

“This boy. How many times do I have to tell you to just call me mom? All of my son’s friends are my sons too.” 

 

It was always interesting to watch the blush develop in Seungyoon’s face, but this time, he was happy that Seungyoon finally got the message. 

 

“Thanks for the food...m-mom.” 

 

*

 

The four days spent in Busan with Seunghoon’s family was fun. His entire family was a noisy, cantankerous, opinionated yet extremely loving bunch. He saw a side of Seunghoon that he couldn’t have imagined. The chic, refined and collected bar owner was utterly dominated by his older sisters. His nieces and nephews were all spoiled by him. 

 

Seungyoon couldn’t have fallen deeper in love than he already has. 

 

The little excursions he took Seungyoon to, the playground, his favorite convenience store, his friend’s snack bar, a nook in the city library where he spent his time reading Korean literature. He savored those moments. 

 

But of course, all good things came to an end, and they had to go back to Seoul and resume their normal lives. Seungyoon had to move back to his apartment, he didn’t want to outstay his welcome. 

 

They walked to the train station, heart heavier than his backpack, not paying attention to the where he was going when he bumped into someone. 

 

“I’m so sorry!” He looked up. 

 

“Minho hyung?” His eyes wide and fell to the person beside him. “Jinwoo hyung?” 

 

The two carried similar backpacks along with bags of gifts, their expressions suspiciously guilty. 

 

“You guys were in Busan too?” He asked the obvious. 

 

“Ah, yeah. A spur of the moment thing…” Minho laughed nervously. 

 

“Spur of the moment huh…” Seunghoon’s keen eyes missed nothing, but as he was wont to do, he didn’t say anything, only slightly judging them with his face. 

 

Jinwoo was a little less flustered. “Are you heading back to Seoul? We might be taking the same train.” 

 

And they were. 

 

They had barely a minute to spare when they got into the carriage before it left, but as the doors were closing, Seungyoon heard an achingly familiar voice call out. 

 

“Seungyoon oppa!” 

 

He turned around and felt his heart crack in the same places it has been broken, old yet torn fresh. 

 

The doors closed and the train sped away from the site of his decimation. 

 

It was his little sister, Jisoo. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I seem to always be apologizing for the long wait, but I have to, yet again. Please scold me in the comments, ;)
> 
> \- Seeing Winner in Seattle really inspired me to write this chapter, I literally finished it in 3 sittings. LOL
> 
> \- Siren is about to end guys... two or three more chapters. We’ve come a long way. 
> 
> \- Find me on twitter [HERE](https://twitter.com/usmarchioness?s=09)


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